


Gentron Week Collection 2k20

by SilenceIsGolden15



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Alternate Universe - Wings, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Autistic Keith (Voltron), Autistic Pidge | Katie Holt, Banter, Broken Bones, Burns, Canonical Character Death, Couch Cuddles, Crying Keith (Voltron), Cuddling & Snuggling, Day At The Beach, First Aid, Foster Kid Keith (Voltron), Games, Gen, Gentron Week, Hugs, Human Experimentation, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Keith (Voltron) Has Abandonment Issues, Keith (Voltron) has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Lance (Voltron) Has ADHD, Mind Meld, Minor Character Death, Minor Injuries, Missions Gone Wrong, Movie Night, Mutants, Nightmares, Non-Consensual Drug Use, One Shot Collection, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Post-Episode: s06e05 The Black Paladins, Prompt: Cuddle Pile, Sharing a Bed, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Socially Awkward Keith (Voltron), Supportive Allura (Voltron), Team as Family, Telepathic Bond, Touch-Starved Keith (Voltron), Wings, kosmo is a good boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:47:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 27,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25693027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilenceIsGolden15/pseuds/SilenceIsGolden15
Summary: It's that time of year again, folks! If all goes well I'll be uploading to this collection twice a day for the next week. Enjoy! (Tags will update with each upload)
Relationships: Allura & Coran & Hunk & Keith & Lance & Pidge | Katie Holt & Shiro, Allura & Coran (Voltron), Keith & Krolia (Voltron), Keith & Lance (Voltron), Keith & Pidge | Katie Holt, Keith & Shiro (Voltron), Keith & Voltron Paladins
Comments: 148
Kudos: 432
Collections: Gentronweek





	1. Space Hot Chocolate

Some days with Voltron were good. Some days they had easy victories, secured alliances, or once in a blue moon, had a day to relax. But those were only some days. 

Most days were like this one-- long, hard, and exhausting. 

Lance collapsed onto the couch the moment they gathered in the lounge, throwing an arm over his face and groaning. “God, that mission was the  _ worst.” _

For once, Keith agreed with him. The battle that day had been grueling, hours upon hours of destroying cruisers one by one, and all he wanted was a hot shower and to sleep for as long as he could get away with. 

“Me too,” moaned Hunk as he sat beside Lance. 

“Me three,” Pidge grumbled, shoulders so slouched her torso formed a semi-circle. 

Shiro sighed as he took off his helmet. His white bangs stuck up every which way, and he smoothed them down as he said, “It was a rough one, for sure, but you all did well.”

Keith shifted on his feet. He was waiting for Shiro’s signal that it was ok to go, but Lance spoke first, sitting bolt upright and announcing, “I think we deserve a treat. Who wants to have a movie night with weird Altean movies that don’t make any sense?” He raised his hand, closely followed by Hunk and Pidge. 

“I can make some snacks,” said Hunk, visibly brightening at the idea. “I have some new stuff I want to try out.”

“It would be nice to do something besides tech projects, for once,” Pidge added, then glanced over at Shiro. “What about you, Shiro? Wanna join?”

Keith expected him to politely refuse, as he had in the past, but this time Shiro smiled and said, “Sure, why not.” Then he looked at Keith and asked the dreaded question: “Feeling up for it, Keith?”

He quickly took stock of the room. None of the others were making faces at the notion or exchanging sly glances, not even Lance-- as for as he could tell. And as awkward as he usually felt interacting with the other Paladins, this would be a good excuse to spend some time with Shiro. Not that they didn’t normally, but Voltron and the war dominated so much of their time; it would be nice to just watch movies and exist together without the distraction of training or the threat of death hanging over their heads. 

So he nodded, and to his surprise Shiro wasn’t the only one who smiled. Pidge and Hunk did too, and Lance didn’t even make a remark about keeping the two of them separated. 

He just stood up and, in a significantly less grumpy tone, said, “Alright, everybody in their pajamas and meet back here. And--” he paused to point in Keith’s direction, “If any of you show up in shoes I swear to God I’ll quit this team.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “I’m sure Allura will take that well.”

“Snark all you want, Mullet, but I don’t play games when it comes to my leisure time. Now chop chop everybody! Day cycles don’t last forever!”

Keith chuckled to himself as he left the room. A lot of the time Lance’s dramatics were annoying, but sometimes even he had to admit that they could be endearing. 

He took his time changing. Heeding Lance’s warning, he left his boots and his gloves in his bunk, and even switched his jeans out for the red pajama pants that still hung, unused, in his closet. But he still stuck to his normal black shirt-- that was non-negotiable. 

When he returned to the lounge he was relieved to find that he wasn’t the first person back. Pidge was sitting at the front of the room, fiddling with the projector, and dressed in her green pajamas as Lance had instructed. 

She glanced up at the sound of the door, smiled briefly at Keith, then looked back down at the projector. “Hey, Keith. Know what movie you want to watch?”

Keith shrugged, then realized she hadn’t seen it and said, “I don’t have a preference. I’ve never watched any of them.”

Even across the room he noticed her eagerly raised eyebrows. “Oh boy, you’re in for it. These things don’t make any sense, not even remotely.”

Keith frowned to himself as he perched on the edge of the soda. “So why do you guys watch them?”

Pidge shrugged. Selecting a small square cartridge from the pule by her knee, she slid it into the projector and snapped the lid shut. “It’s funny. Sometimes we try to guess what’s happening. My favorite was the plot Lance came up with one time-- a parrot lady trying to divorce her three husbands from beyond the grave.” 

That got a snort out of Keith. Pidge came over and sat on the couch beside him, dangling her feet playfully. “Oh, and I should warn you. Hunk’s a cuddlebug on movie nights. He doesn’t take no for an answer.”

Just as she was finishing her sentence the Yellow Paladin himself walked into the lounge, bearing a huge bowl of vaguely ball shaped white puffs. His headband was still securely tied around his forehead, but he was wearing his pajamas as ordered. 

“I made popcorn,” he said cheerfully. “Or the closest thing we have to popcorn, anyway.”

Lance was right behind him, fully decked out in pajamas, robe, and fuzzy Lion slippers included. He had a tray of cups in his hands that he was fully focused on keeping balanced. 

“What’s in the cups?” Pidge asked. The two of them stopped just in front of the couch, Hunk bending to set the not-popcorn on the floor, and Lance carefully lowering his tray beside it. 

“An attempt at hot chocolate,” Hunk answered. “We’ll see how it goes.”

“You made it, so it’s going to be great,” declared Lance as he straightened up. “Pidgeon, did you get the projector set up?”

Pidge nodded. “I picked the one in the pink case. I don’t think we’ve seen that one yet.”

Keith sat silently in the middle of the conversation, feeling unpleasantly out of place. Clearly the three of them had done this many times, but he didn’t know what to do, what was expected of him. Should he try to interject? Or would it be easier to keep to himself and let them forget he was there?

“Here you go, Keith.”

He blinked. Hunk was talking to him, holding out one of the cups. He took it automatically, only barely remembering to tack on a thank you. He paused, expecting Hunk to turn away and keep distributing drinks, but he just stood there, waiting expectantly, until Keith figured out what he wanted and took a sip. 

His tongue tingled with heat, and he raised his eyebrows in surprise. 

Hunks expression turned trepidatious. “Oh no, you didn’t like it?”

“I didn’t say that,” Keith responded, then took another drink. “I do like it. Reminds me of enchiladas.”

Hunk gave him a relieved smile. “Good, I’m glad.”

The lounge door swished open again. This time it was Shiro who walked in, a gentle curve to his lip when he saw them all there together. He too had elected to only wear the pajama bottoms, keeping his white undershirt on instead of the black button up the sets come with. 

Hunk immediately hustled over to offer Shiro his glass, then Shiro took a seat next to Keith on the sofa. His body language was the most relaxed that Keith had seen for a while.

“How is it?” Shiro asked, indicating the cup in his hand. 

“Not bad. Spicy.”

“Alright, people!” Lance, standing in front of the projector, clapped his hands. “Let’s get this show on the road!”

Hunk happily complied, plopping himself down next to Keith with the bowl in his lap, glass of spicy hot chocolate in one hand. Pidge rolled her eyes at Lance’s theatrics, but did sit on Shiro’s other side. Lance sat beside her at the end of the row. The lights dimmed, and with a cheerful beep, the projector turned on. 

Pidge was right-- the movie really didn’t make sense. But that was ok, none of them were paying much attention. Pidge and Lance whispered and snickered to each other. Hunk munched on popcorn, occasionally laughing at something on screen. Shiro seemed to be paying attention, one of his arms draped over the back of the sofa, the other holding his cup. 

Keith just… existed. He sat, tucked ever so slightly into Shiro’s side, sipping his drink, quietly enjoying this rare moment of peace. It wasn’t often they got so much downtime, and it was even more rare that Keith got to join them without dealing with Lance’s teasing. But for once everything was quiet. 

Everyone grew more and more relaxed as the movie went on. One by one they finished their drinks and set the empty cups on the floor in front of the couch. Hunk passed the bowl back and forth until the popcorn was gone; Keith had some, and it wasn’t unpleasant. Kinda tangy. And, gradually, they all seemed to be scooting closer together. 

By the end of the first hour the popcorn was gone. Hunk got up to tidy up the dishes, and when he returned, he sat much closer than before, squishing Keith against Shiro’s side. The sudden contact made Keith jolt, and from the corner of his eye he watched Hunk’s expression. But he seemed entirely focused on getting comfortable again. So, for the moment, Keith didn’t move. 

It was… warm. Very warm. It almost felt like fire in his veins, but a gentle flame that made him melt instead of burn. Hunk on his left was soft, and Shiro on his right was stable, and before Keith knew what was happening he found himself leaning back into the couch, eyelids sagging. The day had been so long… he needed to get some sleep eventually…

Under the quiet dialogue of the film, Keith heard the door go  _ swish.  _ He jumped like a startled cat, jostling the whole line of sleepy Paladins to full wakefulness, Lance with a tired yawn and Pidge with a disgruntled groan. 

“Oh, there you are, Paladins,” said the Princess. Keith had to squint against the bright light shining in from the hall, but if he wasn’t mistaken Allura was also wearing her pajamas; he recognized the blue nightdress from the night the Castle had gone haywire. “I was wondering-- I hadn’t seen any of you since you returned.”

“We’ve been in here,” Shiro explained with a tired smile. Even he looked close to falling asleep. “Relaxing for a bit.”

“You should join us,” said Lance, sounding much more alert than he had a few moments before. “You need some time off, too.”

Allura hesitated. She still stood in the doorway, making it stay open, and Keith looked away, rubbing his eyes with his fists. He’d been so close to drifting off, and now the whole group would probably rearrange to fit Allura in. 

“I shouldn’t. I really ought to go over some maps before retiring--”

“But we’re watching Altean movies,” said Hunk, leaning around Keith to look at her. “We need someone to explain what’s going on.”

“Oh.” She sounded surprised. “I didn’t realize-- I didn’t think they needed explaining, but if you really want me to…”

“We do,” answered Hunk, patting the couch beside him. “Come on, we have room over here.”

Finally the Princess made her decision and entered the lounge fully, letting the door slide shut and block out the light. Keith relaxed a little, going back to his position of leaning on Shiro as Allura quickly darted in front of the screen to settle down on the other side of Hunk. 

To his surprise, Hunk didn’t change his position at all. He kept his side pressed flush to Keith’s, keeping him securely pinned between him and Shiro. 

He tried to pay attention to Allura’s explanations. He really did. But all of the feelings from before had returned, and his eyelids kept slipping shut for seconds at a time. When the end of hour two rolled around and the movie showed no signs of ending, Keith finally declared defeat. He let his head fall onto Shiro’s shoulder and closed his eyes. Shiro didn’t react to the touch, and between that and the even, deep pattern of his breathing, it seemed like Keith wasn’t the only one drifting off. 

Well, good. Shiro deserved a good night’s rest. 

The room sank into gentle silence. Allura’s murmured explanations thinned and ceased. Keith no longer knew if the movie was still running or if the others were still awake. All he knew was that he was tired, and for once felt warm and safe and content, and that combination was just too good to pass up. 

He let sleep take him without a fight. 

* * *

It was late when Coran finally stuck his head into the lounge to check on the Paladins. They were all fast asleep, the only light in the room being the light blue of the projectors idle screen, all piled up in a row around the curve of the couch. 

Closest to the door was Pidge, laying neatly on her side with her head pointed towards Coran, with a blanket bunched up in her arms. Next was Lance, his legs tangled with Pidge’s and one arm dangling over the side of the couch. Then Shiro, upright with his head resting atop Keith’s, who was squished between the Yellow and Black Paladins, knees drawn up and crossed arms tucked behind them. Hunk’s head was tilted against the back of the sofa as he snored. 

Just beyond him Coran spotted a fluff of silver hair, which made him pause for a moment in surprise before walking around to investigate. And there was the Princess, as deeply asleep as the Paladins, facing the back of the couch with her legs draped over Hunk’s lap. 

A smile tugged at his lips, and he couldn’t help but reach out and brush some loose strands of hair back from her face. She was under so much pressure, his Princess, so much responsibility weighing down on her, but in these moments she looked as she should be-- young and at peace. 

Allura stirred at his touch and cracked an eye open. 

“Oh, Coran,” she murmured. “Hm, I must’ve fallen asleep.”

Coran’s smile grew. “That’s alright, Princess. You all need your rest.”

She hummed a bit and let her eyes close again. “Will you stay? Just--” her jaw cracked with a yawn. “Just for a bit.”

Coran’s throat closed up. “Of course,” he managed to croak out, and Allura pushed herself up on her hands, getting upright just long enough for Coran to sit down. Then she laid her head in his lap, squirmed a bit to get comfortable, then within moments was asleep again. 

He had no idea how long he sat there in the darkness and the quiet, gently stroking the Princess’ hair. Long enough that he found himself leaning against Hunk, fighting off sleep himself. 

That was a battle he was happy to lose. 


	2. Never Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, you just need someone there to give you a hug.

“I can’t believe we have to share beds. We might as well just sleep in the Lions again!”

“Lance,” Keith said patiently. “You were the one who said you’d go ballistic if you had to sleep in the Lions for one more night. And,” he couldn’t resist adding, “We already paid for the rooms, so suck it up.”

Lance groaned dramatically, but didn’t continue his line of complaints, so Keith counted it as a win. 

“Alright, let’s sort out who’s sleeping where.”

That was going to be easier said than done. The group had grown considerably since Lotor’s defeat, and now included five humans, three Alteans, his mother, and his considerably large teleporting space wolf. 

What had he gotten himself into?

“Ok, well, Kosmo should probably stay with me.”

“Yes,” said Allura immediately. “Yes, he definitely should.”

“May I stay with Krolia?” Romelle asked. She looked anxious, and Keith didn’t blame her-- she hadn’t known the other Paladins for very long.

“Sure. Allura and Coran, would you two be ok with sharing?”

“Of course,” chirped Coran. He scooped up his bag and said, “Come along, Princess,” before heading for the hallway that the alien clerk had directed them towards. Allura bid the rest of them a quick good night before hurrying after him. 

Keith considered the remaining group for a moment, then turned to Hunk. “Hunk, do you want to share with Lance or Pidge?”

“Lance,” Hunk said instantly. Pidge made an offended sound, but Hunk just shrugged unapologetically. “Sorry, but you kick.”

Keith very carefully kept himself from laughing. “Ok, that leaves Pidge and Shiro.”

Shiro’s expression became drawn. “That… might not be a good idea. My sleep has been… restless. For a while now.”

Shit, he’d forgotten how bad Shiro’s nightmares had gotten. 

“Right, sorry.”

Pidge shifted and adjusted the bag slung over her shoulder. “It’s ok, I can probably squeeze in with you, Keith. I’m small.”

“Ok, that settles it,” said Lance before Keith could respond, bouncing on his toes with impatience. “Let’s get moving, people.”

This time Keith let himself laugh. He and Krolia exchanged an amused look, then the group scattered, following the scant signage to their various assigned rooms.    
Keith and Pidge’s was on the second floor of the building, which was entirely carved from the stone of the hill it sat on, every surface made of lovingly rounded and smoothed stone. Kosmo reached the top of the stairs and must’ve gotten tired of waiting; he disappeared in a burst of blue sparks, and was already laying across the foot of the bed when Pidge and Keith got there. 

“Not bad,” said Pidge as she set her bag down by the door. Keith nodded in agreement. It was simple, with just the bed and a few stone chairs, but there was at least a soft-looking covering on the bed, and another room attached that seemed to be a bathroom. 

Crossing the room, Pidge took a risk and let herself flop onto the bed, full body, next to Kosmo. “Hm. Surprisingly soft.”

Keith smiled fondly to himself. He’d been back with the Paladins for several weeks at this point, but he’d been in the Quantum Abyss for so long-- he could still remember how badly he’d missed them. Even Lance. 

“Well,” he said as he walked over, pausing to give Kosmo a pet. “I don’t know about you, but I’m beat. I think I’ll just head to bed.”

“Me too,” Pidge agreed without sitting up. “But you can have the bathroom first. I’m just gonna lay here for a minute.”

Kosmo turned to look at her, then leaned over and licked her cheek, surprising a giggle out of her. Keith smiled again and headed for the other room. 

It was indeed a bathroom, with a shallow stone basin as a sink, and a larger one against the wall that presumably functioned as a bathtub. He wasn’t interested in messing around with it-- Lance probably would, but Keith just wanted to get his pajamas on, brush his teeth, and pass out. 

A few minutes later he emerged, armor piled in his arms to be deposited onto the floor somewhere. Pidge was still laying on the bed, nose to nose with Kosmo, and Keith could just barely see her gloves buried in his fur, her thumbs rubbing circles behind his ears. 

“Your turn.”

With a reluctant groan, Pidge tore her hands away from Kosmo and sat up. “Do you think he’ll snuggle with me, too?”

“Probably,” Keith answered with a smirk. “With how big he is, you probably won’t get a choice.”

Pidge shot him an excited grin as she passed. 

Keith sat down on the edge of the bed and stretched his arms over his head. Kosmo shifted, wiggled, and pointedly rested his head in Keith’s lap. 

“I know, I know,” he said to the wolf, stroking his fingers over Kosmo’s forehead. “I’m going to bed.”

Kosmo whined and wagged his tail. Keith obligingly got into bed, turning on his side to face the wall. Kosmo squeezed under his arm, fitting himself between Keith and the edge of the bed, and rested his head on his paws. 

Keith was halfway asleep when he heard Pidge exit the bathroom. There was a clatter as she deposited her armor, then the mattress sank down on the other side as she joined him in the bed. The overhead light clicked off. 

During his time in the Quantum Abyss, Keith had been forced to get more comfortable with sleeping in close proximity to another person. But with Pidge there was still a hint of anxiety-- he hadn’t left the team on great terms, after all. 

But she wasn’t saying anything, and the bed was big enough that even with Kosmo, they weren’t touching. So Keith put the old worries to the side and allowed himself some well deserved rest. 

* * *

Pidge was awoken by a cold nose pressed to her neck. It was the middle of the night, the room pitch black, but Kosmo’s eyes glowed above her. Upon seeing she was awake, the wolf whined and looked to her right. 

Keith was still there, asleep. But instead of lying on his side as he had earlier, he was now laying flat on his back, his face turned towards her, cheek pressing into the pillow like he was trying to turn away from something, his new scar bared to the ceiling. 

For a few seconds Pidge just looked at him, blinking slowly as her brain rebooted. Why had Kosmo woken her up? Everything seemed fine. 

Keith’s brow furrowed. A small sound escaped him, something high and distressed, before one of his arms jerked up over his chest.

A moment later it clicked: Keith was having a nightmare. 

Pidge didn’t move immediately, despite Kosmo’s intent gaze. She knew better than to try and wake him up-- Lance had done that once and gotten knocked flat on his ass, and that was before Keith’s growth spurt and the ordeal with the clone. She had to be careful about this. 

So she observed for another minute or two. The little sounds grew in number and volume, and his expression went from mild concern to teeth-grinding pain. Kosmo whined again and nudged Pidge’s knee with his nose, and that’s when she made her move.

Carefully, carefully, Pidge squirmed closer, and gently, gently, stretched an arm over his torso. She felt Keith stiffen up, but he didn’t try to knock her away, so after a moment's hesitation, she rested her head on his chest. 

She could hear his heart beating; it was too fast, pounding  _ bumbumbumbumbumbum  _ in her ear. Kosmo picked his way over their legs and settled on top of Keith’s, setting his head down on Keith’s stomach, watching his face as intently as Pidge was. 

Gradually, she felt his muscles begin to relax. His heart slowed and his face melted back into a peaceful expression. All in all it probably took more than half an hour before he calmed completely, and by the end Pidge was fighting not to fall back asleep. 

Suddenly, Keith began to roll to the side. Pidge tensed, anticipating being squished, but he stopped just short, only one arm draped over her. It wasn’t until his cheek came to rest on top of her head that she realized what was happening. 

He was hugging her back. 

For some reason that made her smile. Keith hadn’t been gone for long on their side of the timeline, but she’d still missed him, and this felt nice-- this sort of easy affection she usually only got from Hunk or Matt. 

So she relaxed. Kosmo let out a heavy breath and closed his eyes, the two lights in the darkness blinking out. Pidge’s followed soon after, and all was quiet and peaceful.

Warm and comforting in the dark. 


	3. Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five kids, one isolated house, one tragic backstory. And ten extra, feathery limbs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for the Wing AU prompt, but it's more like a Maximum Ride AU, if I'm being honest with myself.

“Run, Shiro! Run!”

Shiro thought he was running as fast as he could go, but he tried to push himself faster. The forest was thick around him. He was off balance, still not used to having only one arm; he kept slamming into trees, and his bare feet found every stick, rock, and pinecone they possibly could. But the ear beating through his chest and echoing in Thace’s voice was enough to keep him going. 

He should be wondering about the others, worrying about Thace, but the only thought in his head was  _ run for your life.  _

The Erasers were right on his tail. That sensitive hearing the whitecoats were always testing could track them as they crashed through the woods. He could hear their howls, their bloodlust. Their orders were to bring them back alive. Shiro doubted they’d be able to control themselves that long. 

His wings were an unwelcome burden on his back. He could’ve tried to fly, but he’d never been allowed to try, and the canopy was so thick above his head-- it was safer if he ran, even though he could feel debris getting tangled in the feathers, and a growl so close to him it made his blood run cold.

A few steps later his luck ran out. A sharp pain bloomed between his shoulder blades as his left wing got tangled in something and pulled him to a hard stop. Shiro dug his heels in, but it wasn’t enough to counter the weight of the wings. He toppled backwards, leaving him prone on the forest floor. 

The Erasers were so close he felt the vibration of their footsteps in the ground. If he got caught they’d take him back, back to  _ that place,  _ and this time there would be no Thace to save him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Shiro noticed a small gap under a bush. Without stopping to consider he rolled over and crawled in head first, pressing his wings to his back so tightly they ached. His small body was just thin enough to fit, and he curled his knees to his chest, planting his hand over his mouth to muffle his heaving breath. A stitch burned in his side that he couldn’t afford to acknowledge. 

The foliage right next to his head creaked and cracked as he watched several pairs of black boots stomp past his hiding place. He heard their low, growling voices of Erasers, but didn’t process the words. He was frozen, certain that they’d round on him at any moment, shoving their purple, furry faces into the bush along with their clawed hands and rend his flesh from his bones. 

Miraculously, they didn’t. The sound of loud feet and angry muttering quieted and died. Still Shiro remained hidden, far too terrified to move. 

_ The others,  _ he thought sternly to himself.  _ You have to find the others. Find Thace.  _

Slowly, he sat up. His long, gangly limbs were all shaking like the leaves that surrounded him. His wings were heavy, the stump of his right arm ached, but he had to get up. He just had to. 

A twig snapped. 

“There you are, little bird.”

Breathing in so fast he choked, Shiro whirled. Standing over his hiding place was a face he knew all too well; thick purple fur sprouting from the sides of his face, glowing golden eyes, huge yellow fangs in a snarling mouth, a torso that was five times larger than Shiro’s entire body. Thace had called him the ‘head of security’, but Shiro knew him only as Sendak: the one who hurt them, not for experiments, but because he liked to. 

Sendak reached out a hand, claws glinting in the sunlight, a cruel laugh echoing up his throat. Shiro couldn’t move, all he could do was sit there, panic building more and more and more until--

As usual, Shiro gasped himself awake before he could scream. And, as usual, he woke up to the grey light of pre-dawn filling his bedroom. 

For a moment he lay there, trying to catch his breath. Slowly the dream began to fade, giving way to the details of reality. He was in his usual pajamas, not a cursed hospital gown. His wings were a comfortable weight across his back as he lay on his stomach, not a restricting one, and they were well groomed, not tangled with twigs and dirt. 

The walls that surrounded him were wooden logs, not metal bars. 

Once he could breathe again, Shiro let out a long sigh. It had been years since the escape. He wasn’t a malnourished, scared kid anymore. Yet the dream still refused to leave him alone. The scar across his nose itched. 

He still couldn’t move. With a half-frustrated huff, Shiro carefully clenched his fist and inhaled. 

_ 1, 2, 3, 4, 5.  _

_ And relax.  _ His hand fell open. He waited a few seconds, then tensed his wrist. 

_ 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. _

He worked through every muscle group, going up his arm to his face, the down all the way to his toes. By the time Shiro was able to get to a sitting position, yellow light was peeking at the bottom of his window, and the red numbers on his alarm clock read: 5:33 A.M.

Well, there was no point in trying to go back to sleep. So he got up, ran his hands through his black bangs a few times, and staggered out of the room. 

For a self-sustaining log cabin at the top of a mountain, the house was pretty roomy. Shiro paused at each door as he went down the hall, taking a quick peek. Lance and Hunk were still fast asleep, Lance on his side with his deep brown wings tucked between himself and the wall. Hunk was on his stomach, snoring, wings splayed out as much as his limbs were. 

The next room was empty, but Shiro had expected it to be. All five of them struggled with sleeping in a different way-- Keith’s was to take brief flights between naps, ‘to clear his head’ he said. He’d be home in the next hour or so. 

The next room was the only one with a closed door, and that Shiro went past without a glance. The final room before the main living area was a bathroom, which Shiro stopped in. Even then, he didn’t close the door all the way-- none of them could stand being closed in. 

He avoided looking in the mirror. He already knew what he’d see; a large, muscular man, a couple of years into adulthood, with grey feathers peeking over his shoulders and a scar across his nose. But sometimes, especially after that dream, he couldn’t connect with that reflection. Now when he still felt like that scared kid, running for his life. 

Shaking off the thoughts as best he could, Shiro proceeded into the next room. Thace had called it the ‘family room’, with the kitchen on one end, the living room on the other, and a dining table right in the center. 

Pidge was passed out on the loveseat that served as her bed, their household laptop still in front of her. Her wings were going to be sore when she woke up, and if one of the other kids startled her she’d probably regret having stuff all over the floor right next to her bed, but that was a her problem. 

Pidge had only been four years old when Thace brought them here. None of the bedrooms were big enough to accommodate a toddler, let alone one with her intellectual acumen, so part of the living room had always been deemed hers. 

Shiro stepped softly to avoid waking her as he went to the kitchen. He appreciated the rosy clouds through several large windows that the wall ended on, then turned to the fridge and pulled open the door. There wasn’t much inside, it had been a few weeks since any of them had felt up to sneaking into the nearest town, but they were quickly running out of leeway. There was a carton of orange juice, some eggs, an empty milk jug with approximately a thimble full of milk in it, and--

There was a whoosh just outside the window. Shiro instinctively stilled, listening. The window frame squeaked as it was slid open, clothing rustled, two soft footfalls met the floor. The hair on the back of Shiro’s neck prickled. 

“Hey, Shiro.”

He turned to find Keith standing behind him. He was still a lanky teenager, approximately seventeen, and stood several inches shorter than him. His black hair was windblown and messy, his cheeks pink, but he was at least dressed, which gave him a leg up on Shiro. 

“Hey.” Keith had kept his voice low to avoid stirring the rest of the household, and Shiro pitched his in kind. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Keith shrugged. “The usual.” His hand plunged into the pocket of his red hoodie and emerged with a butterfly knife that he immediately began to twirl, one of his many nervous tics and stims. “Anyone else up yet?”

Shiro shook his head, and Keith lost some tension in his shoulders. He loved everyone in the family, Shiro knew, but he was an introvert who preferred quiet. The same could not be said for the others, especially Lance. 

Keith glanced over to him. Having immediately noted Shiro’s position, his eyes narrowed. “You’re not gonna try and cook, are you?”

Shiro rolled his eyes and closed the fridge. “No, I’ve learned my lesson on that front, thanks. I was just taking inventory.”

With a grunt of understanding, Keith went to the pantry. “‘M gonna have toast. Want any?”

“Nah,” answered Shiro as he moved across the room and sat on one of the mismatched dining chairs. They were all wooden, salvaged from dumpsters and Goodwills, all with their backs cut off to give them space for their wings. “I’ll wait for Hunk.”

“Suit yourself.”

For the next few minutes there was that particular kind of early morning quiet in the air. Shiro listened to Keith clinking around in the kitchen-- he had his wings partially extended from his back, letting them cool after his flight, which meant they occasionally bumped into things. His were thinner than Shiro’s, designed for high speed and sharp turns, with feathers the color of his hair layered over one of deep maroon. 

Shiro could still remember the first time he saw Keith. It was among his first memories. The bright, buzzing lights. Cold metal under his feet. The sharp smell of disinfectant. The door to the lab opened, and in came a whitecoat, carrying something. Not something-- a someone, a baby that could stand, downy wings fluttering behind him. He was utterly silent, even when the whitecoat opened the door of the cage beside Shiro’s and put him inside--

“Morning, you two.”

Shiro blinked hard and rubbed his eyes. When that wasn’t enough, he shook his head, and this time managed an answer. “Morning, Hunk.”

Keith gave a jerk of his head as acknowledgment, his hands full with his knife and a plate with four slices of bread stacked on it, all burnt to a crisp. He set the plate on the table and tore into his food, ignoring the face Hunk made at the level of char. 

“Are you having Pompeii toast, too?” he asked, making Shiro chuckle. 

“No, I was waiting for you to come and make something edible.”

Keith dropped his piece of blackened bread, flipped Shiro off, and picked it up again. 

“That was a good choice,” said Hunk as he shimmied behind Keith’s chair. He was much larger than Keith or Lance, with a wide frame and weight distribution to match, not to mention the fifteen foot wingspan designed for steady, distance flying, so it took a little work. 

“I hope there’s enough in there for you to make something. One of us needs to do a grocery run soon.”

Hunk gave him a smile that was far too peppy for six in the morning. “Don’t worry, I’ll manage.” He had a face that was meant for smiling-- white Keith and Shiro had pale skin and features that suggested Asian ancestry, Hunk had a dark complexion with a wide nose and sturdy jaw. Hunk was built like a tank, but acted like it was being driven by Care Bears. 

“God,” groaned a new voice from the living room. “Why are all you people so damn loud?”

“Good morning to you too,” Keith said snarkily. Pidge groaned again. 

Hunk frowned in vague disapproval as he cracked eggs into one of their few clean bowls. “It’s not our fault you stay up so late.”

“You stay up just as late,” Pidge retorted through a yawn. “You just do it in your bed and don’t get anything done.”

Shiro glanced over right as she was standing to stretch her wings. They were like the rest of her, small, compact, and agile, the same tawny auburn as her hair, dappled in some places by white. As he watched she dragged her fingers through her hair, forcing them through the tangles, and started to pull it into her signature side ponytail.

Hunk elected not to continue the argument, which Shiro thought was wise. Pidge was the smallest and the only girl, but she was also the smartest. Side benefit of being a mutant freak born in a lab-- sometimes you get to be a genius, too. 

Other times, you just get one of your arms cut off. 

“Well, if I have to suffer, so does Lance,” Pidge declared, then marched purposefully towards the hallway. “Oh sleeping beauty! Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey!”

Hunk laughed. Keith shook his head and unsuccessfully tried to hide his smirk. Shiro pinched the bridge of his nose. 

A few moments later there was a shout, a thump that vibrated through the wooden floor, then miracle cackling that could only belong to Pidge. 

More footsteps pounded down the hall. Pidge dashed into the room, quickly sliding around Keith’s chair and high tailing it for the safety of Hunk. Then came Lance, tired and groggy and  _ very  _ pissed off. 

“It’s six fucking A.M.!” he exclaimed, blue eyes spitting sparks. His wings were flared out behind him, but the picture of fury was somewhat ruined by his blue pajamas and how his short brown hair was sticking up every which way. And the fact that he was a scrawny beanpole that probably weighed a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet. “None of you did anything to stop this gremlin?”

“I was busy,” said Hunk, gesturing to the pan of scrambled eggs on the stove. 

“She’s too fast for me,” Shiro said, and Pidge’s eyes lit up across the room. For how devious she was, sometimes it was hard to remember that she was only somewhere around thirteen years old. 

Lance huffed and folded his arms. With Hunk as he was, it was also difficult for Shiro to remember that they were the same age, fifteen, but Lance always found a way to remind him. 

Shiro really had a problem with linear time in general. Growing up being tortured in a lab will do that to you. 

“I hate this family.”

As one, the rest of them chorused, “No, you don’t.”

Lance pouted, and all of them laughed together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You will note that this wasn't written in the usual oneshot format. That's because after gentron is done, this is going to be a full blown chapter AU. Something to look forward to.


	4. Man's Best Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith's always wanted a dog. Krolia hadn't, but she grew to love him anyway.

Keith tried his best not to get attached to the little wolf creature he and Krolia found on the space whale. Even when it followed them to the cave they chose as their shelter, even when it accepted chunks of meat from his hand, even when it slept beside him and still remained in the morning, he told himself not to get attached. 

They were on a mission, in the Quantum Abyss, one of the most dangerous places in the universe. It was entirely possible that it was dangerous, that it could turn on him, and even if it didn’t Krolia wouldn’t let it stay. They didn’t need the distraction. 

But at the end of the second day, when Keith returned to the cave with an armful of firewood and the wolf trotting behind him, Krolia didn’t say anything about it. She just smiled. 

That night, as they experimented with some of the plants Krolia had gathered for dinner, she asked, “What are you going to call it?”

“Him,” Keith corrected without even realizing what they were talking about. He looked down at the wolf pup beside him, sleeping flat on his back with his paws in the air. 

He got a strange feeling, looking at the wolf. When their eyes met it reminded him of Red; with her, nothing needed to be explained. Everything was instinctive-- he knew how she felt, what she wanted, without having to think. The wolf was the same. Keith knew he was intelligent. He knew he had a name. But he wasn’t ready to tell him yet, and Keith respected that. 

“He hasn’t told me yet,” he found himself saying to Krolia. “But he will when he’s ready.” Then he blinked, glanced over at her, and flushed. “Sorry, that probably doesn’t make sense.”

“No,” said Krolia, casually. “It makes perfect sense.” 

At that moment, a loud bellow echoed through the cave, probably a call from some nearby animal. But they didn’t have time to be concerned about it, because the wolf pup let out a startled yip in response. 

Then there was a pop, a shower of blue sparks, and the wolf vanished into thin air. 

“Uhhh….” said Keith. Krolia just stared, wide eyed. 

_ Pop.  _ More sparks, and the wolf reappeared square in Keith’s lap, whining and shaking from the tips of his ears to the end of his tail. Keith automatically held him closer, giving him calming strokes, while Krolia still stared. 

“So,” she said dimly a few minutes later. “The Quantum Abyss wolf teleports.”

Keith hummed in acknowledgement. Personally, Keith was already over it. He’d gotten fairly practiced at accepting the unexpected since leaving Earth. 

He was mentally bound to a sentient Lion spaceship? Sure. He was secretly half alien and had genetic links to a cult of spies? Why not. The space wolf they found on the back of a space whale floating through the Quantum Abyss could teleport through time and space? Just another Tuesday. 

“I wonder what else he can do.”

Keith smiled as the wolf settled in his lap, scare forgotten, now busily licking his paw. 

“I think we’re going to find out.” 

* * *

Krolia wasn’t sure how to feel about the wolf at first. It made her son smile, which was a good enough reason to keep it around, but she hadn’t had many opportunities to interact with animals in her life. She wasn’t sure how to approach it, and the wolf seemed to sense her hesitation, avoiding her in kind. 

One night she was sitting awake, watching the fire burn down. She was usually up later than Keith-- she used the time to think. She certainly had plenty to mull over. 

That night she was thinking about the visions, specifically the one she’d seen their first night in the Abyss, the one of Keith standing over a grave, small and completely, utterly alone. 

They’d both had many visions since coming here, but that one haunted her. He never should have had to stand there alone; not as a child, not ever. And if she’d been able to put the mission aside for once in her life, he wouldn’t have had to. 

She was crying before she knew it, and she let the tears come. She couldn’t have afforded to show such emotion while undercover or with the Blade, but here, under the cover of night, she had more freedom. 

Something nudged Krolia’s hand. When she looked down, she was surprised to see the wolf pup looking back at her. Usually he slept next to Keith, but tonight he was sitting next to Krolia’s foot, just staring at her, ears pricked forward and alert, tail slowly swishing behind him.

“What?” she murmured. The wolf tilted his head, then stepped forward and rested his nose on her drawn up knees. 

Krolia frowned at him. “What do you want?”

“He wants you to pet him.”

She couldn’t help startling. Keith had rolled over and was now watching expectantly with no sign of surprise at the tears on her face. 

The only response she could think of was, “What?”

Keith sat up. “Petting animals can make you feel better. He knows that.”

She looked back down at the wolf, who was still staring at her intently. Being completely honest, Krolia hadn’t even considered trying to calm herself. She was just going to sit with her pain until her body forced her to rest-- after all, it wasn’t like she didn’t deserve it. But now her son was watching, and so was the wolf. She didn’t have a choice. 

Krolia reached out an awkward hand and softly patted the wolf’s head. He blinked languidly at her, not seeming to mind her hesitant attempts at affection. 

A soft chuckle reached her ears. Keith got up and moved to sit beside her, an expression of fond amusement on his face that made her heart arche in a way she didn’t fully understand. 

“Try this,” he said, tucking one of his hands behind the wolf’s ear and rubbing in a circular motion with his fingertips. “He likes it when you scratch behind his ears.”

Surely enough, the wolf’s eyes closed completely in contentment, and he tilted his head into Keith’s touch. Being careful of her claws, Krolia mimicked the motion. 

Surprisingly, it was helping. His fur was dense and soft under her fingers, his body a warm weight against the front of her legs, and there was something calming about knowing she was pleasing him. 

And, she had to admit, he was pretty darn cute. 

Before she knew it, Krolia found herself smiling. So was Keith. 

“I knew he’d grow on you.” 

* * *

Krolia and the wolf stared intently into each other's eyes. His nose twitched and he scooted forward an inch. Krolia raised her eyebrows pointedly, and the wolf froze for a few more seconds. Then he stuck his tongue out a bit, swallowed, and scooted forward again. 

She maintained her stony composure for another minute. But the wolf wagged his tail, just a little, and she cracked. 

“Oh, go on.”

Bouncing forward happily, he set about covering her face in licks. Keith called them kisses for some reason-- probably some strange human thing-- and although they’d been trying to teach the wolf not to constantly lick them, sometimes they just couldn’t resist. 

The wolf stopped licking suddenly. When Krolia opened her eyes she found him standing at attention, ears pricked forward, staring out the mouth of the cave that had become their home. 

Krolia stood up and listened. For a moment she heard nothing out of the ordinary. Then she heard it, distant and dim. It sounded like a shout. 

The wolf vanished with his customary popping sound. Krolia stayed where she was, listening closely, but if there were any more sounds to be heard, they’d moved outside of audible range. 

Another pop sounded behind her. Krolia spun on her heel, and when she’d blinked away the blue sparks, found that the wolf had returned with Keith slumped at his side, one arm tossed over the wolf’s back, the other pressed to his torso. 

“What happened?” she exclaimed, dropping to one knee at his side. 

Keith grimaced. “One of those-- horned lizard things caught my scent-- fuck, those things are fast.”

“Sit down,” said Krolia, gently helping Keith pull away from the wolf and sit properly. “Let me see.”

He reluctantly moved his hand, revealing a bloody gash across his side. Only a few inches long, thankfully. 

“It’s not deep,” she said after a brief examination. “Bandaging it should be enough, so long as it doesn’t get infected. Stay here, let me get the bandages.”

“No problem,” Keith grunted with another wince. 

When she returned it was Keith who was being bathed in wolf kisses. But he was smiling, so he must not have minded. 

“I’m ok, buddy,” he was saying to the wolf, rubbing his ears with one hand. “You did it, you saved me.”

The wolf whined and licked his cheek.

“Ok, let me get at it.”

Keith obligingly moved his arm, allowing Krolia to begin cleaning and bandaging the wound. “Are you in pain?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “Some.”

“I’ll make you some of that white tea when I’m done.”

“You don’t have to.” 

Krolia just shot him a look. 

A few hours later, after the light had faded and Keith was passed out from the pain relieving tea she made him drink, Krolia watched her son sleep, the wolf dozing beside him. As though sensing her gaze, the wolf picked his head up and looked back. 

She felt a little silly, talking to an animal, but Keith was right-- there was intelligence in that gazee. 

“Thank you,” she murmured. 

The wolf blinked at her. He gathered his paws beneath him and stood, gave his fur a shake, then laid back down, this time with his head balanced on Krolia’s knee. 

She smiled, and scratched him behind the ears. 


	5. Penny For Your Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have you tried turning the headbands off and then on again?

Pidge let out her breath slowly. The headband poised on her brow was an unwelcome distraction, but she tried her best to ignore it and focus on the exercise. Allura would make them do it again if she didn’t, and Pidge hated people prying into her head enough, the last thing she wanted to do was make it last longer than necessary. 

“Feel your connection to your Lion,” Coran was saying in the background. “Feel the connection between your Lion and the others. Feel the connection to each other.”

Pidge focused. Green waited patiently at the back of her mind for her to reach out, and when she was ready, guided her towards her partner. 

The purpose of the exercise was to strengthen their bonds to each other, which Coran said would make Voltron more powerful. Easier said than done: she’d been partnered up with Keith, who hated others rooting around in his brain almost as much as she did. 

But it couldn’t be helped. He straight up refused to let Lance or Hunk in, no matter what the Alteans said. He might’ve been willing to do it with Shiro, but his mental state was delicate, so he had to run it with Allura so that they didn’t accidentally trigger flashbacks. 

Which left Pidge as the only option. 

“Meet your partner on shared ground-- let your Lions be the bridge between you.”

The bridge stretched out before her in green cobblestones. A few dozen feet ahead it faded, changing to a flickering, unsure red reflection. 

Coran kept talking, leading the others forward, but Pidge waited on her side of the bridge. She knew from previous attempts that trying to break through before Keith was ready would only get her locked out faster. 

Eventually the red solidified. Pidge moved forward and crossed the line that sealed the two colors together; a force swept past her as Keith did the same. Her first instinct was to retreat, to slam the gates shut and keep all of her secrets locked up, safe, as they should be. But she exhaled again and kept walking. 

The end of Keith’s bridge was more of a wall than a gate. But there was a gap in the stone, just large enough for Pidge to slip through. 

She stepped out in the desert. The setting sun cast orange light draped in shadow across the rocks, warm wind brushing her cheeks and creaking between the slats of the wooden building before her. She’d been there, but it looked different in Keith’s memories. The calm and quiet of the desert was amplified here. 

An image of Matt flashed across her brain. Keith must be looking at one of her memories of her brother. Pidge’s stomach squeezed, but she firmly refocused her attention on the image of the shack. It didn’t matter what Keith was looking at-- she had to pay attention to what she was seeing, not him. 

Once all thoughts of Matt had been banished, she proceeded inside the house. 

It looked the same as it had every time she’d been there, both physically and figuratively. The same rough and tumble furniture. Cluttered piles of books and papers in the corners. The cork board on the wall, which she knew without removing the sheet would be covered with pictures, scribbled notes, maps, red strings connecting ideas together, among other things. 

Pidge frowned to herself. They were supposed to be letting each other see new things, to deepen their bond. She was letting him see Matt; the memories were rolling like a camera reel in the back of her mind. But as far as she could tell, nothing here was different than it had been last time. 

She glanced around the room again. It was a one room set-up, as usual, with three doors. One that led outside, one that went to the tiny attached bathroom, and one that--

Wait. 

Pidge blinked and shook her head. But it didn’t help explain the existence of a third door, when she was absolutely certain there had only ever been two. 

It looked the same as the others, just a simple wooden door with a simple golden knob. But it was placed awkwardly, squeezed between the corkboard and the corner of the wall, in a place that should’ve just led back outside. 

Green purred with curiosity. Pidge was in agreement, but when she tried the knob it wouldn’t budge, and she pursed her lips. Seemed like Keith was trying to show her something new, but as with every time before, needed some prodding. 

She yanked hard on the knob. The wood moaned in disagreement, but that didn’t stop her from pulling again, and on the third tug the door declared defeat, popping open with a puff of dust. 

Muffling her coughing into her sleeve, Pidge opened the door as wide as it would go. On the other side was… another house?

The door appeared to lead into an entirely different living room, this one with dry-wall painted white, creamy carpet on the floor, and furnished entirely in white, the furniture looking much nicer than the old stuff in Keith’s cabin. The only colors in the room were tasteful accents of purple and old, and a strange scent floated on the air; peppermint oil, maybe. 

Pidge took a cautious step inside and immediately stopped. Something was different here, aside from the change in decor. Back in the shack the mood had been calm, quiet, and a little lonely, but there was a peace to it. It was quiet here, too, but this quiet had apprehension that made her want to hold her breath. 

It didn’t make any sense. When had Keith lived in a place like this? More importantly, why did it feel so suffocating?

A sharp slam echoed through the house, loud and sudden enough to make her jolt, and suddenly the air was charged. A blur of black moved on the other side of a window behind sheer white curtains, and Pidge felt her pulse in her throat. 

Keys jangled outside the ornate front door. She had no idea what was going on, but her gut twisted, urging her instinctively to run. If she’d been the Red Paladin, she might have. The door knob began to turn, and--

_ No! _

Abruptly Pidge was yanked back-- outside of the house, out of Keith’s shack, the doors slamming shut after her. She was able to still for a moment in the desert, but there was another yank and she was locked out of Keith’s mind entirely, left to stand on the red cobblestone in front of his mental wall, before even that crumbled away and she fell into darkness.

She wrenched her eyes open with a gasp. She was back on the training deck, all of her teammates staring at her in surprise. But it was Keith’s gaze that held her attention. Eyes wide, skin pale, lips pressed together so tightly it turned the skin around his mouth bone white, his hands curled into fists in his lap. 

“No,” he said, and Pidge realized that the voice she’d heard had been his. “I didn’t— I don’t— don’t  _ look  _ at that.” His voice trembled with something. Rage, probably. “I didn’t say you could look at that.” 

Pidge could only say a stunned, “I’m sorry.” 

Keith was shaking. He stared at Pidge a few moments longer, then blinked and cut his eyes to the side, taking in the other Paladins and Coran, who had all stopped what they were doing to observe the confrontation. His cheeks flushed bright red and he got to his feet, tearing the Altean headband off. 

“I’m done,” he spat, letting the headband clatter to the floor as he stormed out. 

Stunned silence filled the room. Pidge didn’t know what to do, what to say, she could only sit, staring at the door. 

“Dude,” said Lance eventually. “What did you do?” 

* * *

Pidge’s stomach ached with guilt. She tried not to think about it, attempted to use various tech projects as distractions, but those would only last so long before her mind would wander back to the training session, and the terrible creeping dread that had lived in that house. 

Shiro, as ever, counseled patience. Trying to force a confrontation with Keith before he was ready would only make it worse, he’d told her. Just wait, and he’ll come out when he’s ready. 

Shiro would know, of course. He knew Keith the best. But Pidge hates having to wait. To sit with this discomfort. She hadn’t meant to go somewhere that she wasn’t wanted. She was just… curious. 

It was near dinner time when she finally emerged from the lab. She was hoping, perhaps naively, that she could corner him outside the dining room, quickly say sorry, then the two of them could move on and pretend it never happened. If he ever showed up for dinner, that is. Keith could be pretty avoidant—

_ I should go to dinner.  _

Pidge stopped in the middle of the hall and turned, but there was no one there. She frowned and looked the other way. Nothing. Strange, she could’ve sworn she heard— 

_ But Pidge will be there. _

“What the…” she looked again, back and forth, and saw nothing, not even a shadow. So why was she hearing— 

_ They’ll all be there.  _

She craned her neck back, scanning the ceiling for vents, speakers, anything that could carry a voice. But there wasn’t anything. There was nothing there, no one was there, she was alone. Why was she hearing a voice? 

_ They’ll all stare. They all saw, before. _

Wait, that wasn’t just any voice. That was—

_ They all saw. They all saw. They know. _

—Keith. She was hearing Keith’s voice. 

_ They all know you’re weak. _

“Shit.” 

She made a beeline for the dining room. She didn’t know why she was hearing Keith’s thoughts in her head, but she’d bet money on it having something to do with the disastrous training session from that morning. Which meant there were only two people who would know what to do. 

_ I can’t go. But Shiro will notice if I don’t. He’ll look for me.  _

Pidge sped up. Keith was sounding increasingly frantic, and she didn’t want to know what would happen when that fuse reached its end. 

Everyone else was already in the dining room when she rushed in. Except, of course, for Keith. 

“There you are, Number Five,” chirped Coran. “Just in time, I made something special for tonight—“

Pidge slapped her hands down on the table. “We’ve got a problem.” 

Coran pulled back, an offended expression on his face, while the others looked on in confusion and, in Shiro’s case, concern. 

“What’s wrong, Pidge?” asked Allura. 

She opened her mouth to respond, but before a single word could escape another stream of Keith’s thoughts shot through her head. 

_ Not there. Shiro knows there. Can’t hide there. Not safe there.  _

“Pidge?” A chair scraped back from the table, and when she looked up, Shiro was standing beside her. “Are you alright?”

“I—“ she took a step back and shook her head. “This is gonna sound crazy, but I think— I’m kinda— hearing Keith’s thoughts in my head?”

Shiro paused. Lance and Hunk were about ten times more confused as they had been before. But, to all of their surprise, Coran only looked exasperated while Allura began to giggle. 

Seriously. Like a schoolgirl. 

“Um… Allura?” said Lance after a few seconds of silence. The Princess put her hand over her mouth to stifle the laughter, but was only partially successful. 

“I’m sorry,” she managed to say with some effort. “It’s just— that used to happen with my father all the time.” 

Coran made a sound of annoyance. “He was always too impatient to break the connection correctly. Every other movement one of the other Paladins would come to me complaining about his thoughts in their minds. Absolutely ridiculous.”

Lance laughed, and Hunk seemed to be relaxing, but Pidge couldn’t catch up with the light atmosphere in the room. Not when Keith was thinking  _ not there, not safe, can’t let them see me, can’t let them see.  _

“It’s a problem easily fixed,” Allura was saying, and Coran picked it up from there, still with an air of frustration. 

“All we need to do is wait for Number Four to get here, then we’ll recalibrate the headbands and everything will go back to normal.”

“That’s… another part of the problem,” Pidge admitted. “He’s… I don’t think he’ll be coming to dinner. He’s…”

_ Stop it. Quiet down. No one can see. Stop it quiet stopstopstop.  _

Pidge couldn’t make herself say anything more. Keith was this shaken from the mere idea that Pidge had seen something bad in his memories— from the group seeing him shaken. How could she tell everybody what he was thinking now? It wouldn’t be right. 

Shiro must’ve noticed how her eyes were darting between everyone’s faces, as he put a hand on her shoulder and drew her a few steps towards the door. His eyes shone with worry.

“Do you know where he is?” he murmured, too quietly for the others to hear. Pidge shook her head, blinking rapidly to beat back unexpected tears. She’s never heard Keith sound so scared before. 

“No. He said something about not going somewhere because you’d know to look for him there.” 

Shiro let out a quiet sigh, sadness and understanding mixing on his face. “Right. Well, what places do I know? Dining room, lounge, kitchen, the hangars, his room, training deck, infirmary—“

“What about the observation deck?” asked Pidge, and Shiro’s brow furrowed. 

“The what?”

“You know, big circular room on sub-level three? Has a bunch of screens with camera links to outside so it looks like there’s windows?”

Shiro just blinked at her without comprehension. “Oh, well, that might be it, then. I’ve seen him there a few times.” 

“When?” Shiro asked. Pidge shrugged. 

“Late at night, usually. When we’re not supposed to be awake.”

Shiro hummed and nodded slowly, processing. “Sounds as likely a place as any.” Straightening up, he addressed the others, who’d been exchanging whispers amongst themselves while he and Pidge talked. “We’re going to go find Keith. Coran, do you think you could have everything set up to fix this when we get back?”

“All we’ll need is the headbands,” Coran responded, which Shiro took as a yes. 

“Come on, Pidge. Show me to the observation deck.” 

She bobbed her head in agreement and turned to the door. 

_ stopstopstopstopstopstopstop _

Pidge sucked in a shaky breath as they left the room. Shiro’s hand returned to her shoulder. 

“It’s going to be ok,” he said softly. Pidge sniffled and wiped her cheeks.

“I know. I just… I didn’t mean to cause all of this.”

“I know you didn’t,” Shiro answered. “So does Keith.” 

_ stopstopstopstopstopstopstop _

Pidge wasn’t so sure about that. 

It took them the better part of five minutes to make it all the way down to the observation deck. In that time Keith’s thoughts had formed a vicious cycle of distress: panicking about having his vulnerability seen, scolding himself for panicking, trying to convince himself to suck it up and go to dinner, which lapsed back into panic at being seen in such a state. Keeping up was giving Pidge a headache-- she could only imagine how it felt for Keith.

Their footsteps echoed down the hall when the two of them stepped out of the elevator. 

Instantly Keith’s thoughts changed:  _ quietsomeone’sherequietdon’tmovedon’tbreathedon’tmovequietquietquiet--  _ and Pidge felt tears rising. 

“He knows we’re here,” she whispered. Shiro nodded, but said nothing as he set off down the hall, not trying to muffle his steps. Pidge hurried after him. 

_ don’tmovedon’tmovedon’tmove _

“Keith?” Shiro called when they were a few steps from the door. “You down here?”

Keith’s thoughts stopped. All Pidge got from him was a vibrating tension. 

Shiro stopped at the door, glanced over at Pidge, then knocked and said, “Keith? Pidge is with me.” 

He tapped the button to open the door, and as it slid into the wall, Pidge heard  _ nonononononono.  _

He was there, sitting next to the door, head buried in his knees. Probably not even breathing. 

“Keith? Hey,” Shiro said quietly, kneeling at his side. Pidge hovered anxiously in the background. She twisted her fingers into the hem of her hoodie. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” grumbled Keith without looking up. Shiro made a disbelieving sound. 

_ God please don’t make me. Don’t make me cry. Don’t make me cry in front of Pidge.  _

Shit. Pidge considered stepping out of the room, but it would be an empty gesture. As long as their connection was still all tangled up, privacy wasn’t going to be possible. So she stepped forward instead. 

“Hey, I know I’m not the person you want to see right now, but it’s pretty important that I tell you this.”

Shiro looked up at her, expression unreadable. There was another burst of thoughts from Keith’s end, but Pidge suppressed them as best she could, fighting not to lose her train of thought. 

“When you left training earlier, the two of us got kind of… stuck in each others’ heads.”

Keith raised his head. Probably in surprise, since he didn’t bother to hide the redness of his eyes, and Pidge cringed. 

“I know it probably doesn’t make a lot of sense, but apparently something went wrong with the headbands, and for the last little while I’ve been… kinda hearing your thoughts?”

Keith just stared. His thoughts were silent. He didn’t react to Shiro putting a hand on his shoulder, either. 

“Don’t worry,” he said to Keith. “Coran said it was an easy fix. We just have to go back to the dining room.”

Finally, Pidge got a scrap of a thought. It just said:  _ Pidge had to listen to all of that.  _ But something about it, about the guilty tinge of the word  _ had,  _ that made Pidge choke up. 

_ Alright,  _ she thought.  _ That does it.  _ She dropped to her knees in front of Keith, leaning forward with familiar determination welling in her chest. 

“Keith, I’m sorry about what happened in training. I’m sorry that you didn’t get to work through this privately, like you deserved. But I don’t think any less of you because of what I’ve heard. I don’t think you’re weak. I don’t pity you. And if this bond thing goes both ways, which I’m pretty sure it does, you know that I’m telling the truth.”

He stared at her for a minute longer. A thought dashed across her mind,  _ she could be lying,  _ but it was barely there long enough for her to hear it. Then he smiled just the teeniest, tiniest bit. 

“It’s ok, Pidge.”  _ I know you didn’t mean to.  _

Shiro smiled proudly at them both. “Great. Now let's go back upstairs and get you two untangled.” He held out a hand to Keith, who took it and let Shiro pull him to his feet. Pidge stood on her own and fell into step behind them. 

As they left the observation deck, Pidge decided to try a little experiment. As clearly as she could, she thought  _ I’m really sorry.  _

And Keith thought back  _ I know.  _

  
  



	6. Casualties of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith doesn't think anyone else will mourn Regris. Keith is wrong.

Keith dropped heavily onto his mattress and put his head in his hands. He should be getting showered and dressed, should be preparing to do his usual apology song and dance for the others, but he couldn’t even comprehend the idea of being sorry for missing an air show when a much bigger transgression hung over his head. 

He could still see the flash. Feel the heat on his skin even through the suit. Kolivan’s hands as he pulled Keith away, grip tight enough to leave bruises. 

Regris hadn’t made a sound when he died. Keith couldn’t decide which would be worse: a tortured scream to echo in his ears, or this haunting silence. 

With a sigh, Keith forced himself upright and staggered over to the closet. His head kept spinning as he undressed. 

Allura had sounded so disappointed in him. The others would be angry, and he’d get that look from Shiro, the one he’d been having nightmares about, the one he kept getting after every mission, after every disagreement. But all of that seemed miniscule when he thought about the explosion on the warship, and flying home with an empty seat. 

He’d just finished putting his gloves back on when a knock came at his door, making him cringe. It was probably Shiro, to deliver part two of the lecture, or one of the others, looking for a fight. 

Well, he couldn’t avoid them forever. 

But when he opened the door, it wasn’t any of the humans-- it was Allura. 

Keith held in a groan. Apparently she wasn’t done. “Got more lecturing in you, Princess?”

Allura pressed her lips together. It was a look Keith had seen on other faces; someone praying for patience. 

“May I come in?”

Keith stepped back from the door wordlessly. He turned and sat back down on the bed. Normally he’d never go into a confrontation like this, letting himself be at a disadvantage, but he was too tired to care this time. 

“Go on,” he said, not moving his eyes from the floor. “Finish up. I think you left out a line about disappointing Shiro.” 

Allura heaved an affected sigh. “Keith, I’m not here to lecture you again.”

That got him to look up. She looked less like a chagrined parent now. If anything, she seemed even more exhausted than he was. Even so, her eyes were soft. 

“What, then?”

The Princess shifted on her feet, as though she didn’t know what to say, before her royal composure returned to her. “When we spoke earlier, I noticed that you were… distant. Is something wrong?”

“No,” Keith said automatically. “I’m fine. Just tired.” Besides, Regris was a Blade. Galra. A half breed, like him. He doubted the others would care about another dead member of an organization they barely tolerated for the sake of strategy. 

But Allura frowned in disbelief. “May I sit?”

_ Damnit.  _ “Yeah, I guess.”

Allura moved forward and carefully perched herself on the edge of the bed. For a moment there was a silence, verging on awkward, but Keith just directed his eyes back to the floor and waited. Eventually Allura would give up. Everyone did. 

But the Princess could be stubborn. He could see her out of the corner of his eye, studying him, before speaking softly. 

“Did something happen on your mission today?”

The question caught him by surprise. The others never mentioned his blade missions without a certain edge to their voices, but right now Allura’s didn’t carry it, and that surprise threw off his concentration. The next thing he knew the whole thing was flashing through his mind again. 

To his horror, Keith’s throat tightened up. 

“Um.” His voice cracked, and the blood rose to his face in humiliation. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Uh-- no? I-- I mean-- kind of, but,” he cleared his throat again and took a breath. “It doesn’t affect Voltron.”

Allura made a soft sound, but where it was exasperated or sad, he couldn’t tell. “But it’s affecting you, isn’t it?”

Keith turned his head away, unable to trust his expression not to expose him, and managed to say, “Doesn’t matter.” Heat was beginning to build behind his eyes. He had to get Allura out of there, before he broke down entirely. He was the leader now. That sort of thing wasn’t allowed. 

But Allura wasn’t deterred. Keith jolted at her hand landing on his knee, but she didn’t recoil; she captured Keith’s gaze and didn’t let it go. He was expecting determination, or maybe some tough love, but her eyes were… soft. 

“It does matter. What happened?”

That shouldn’t have been enough to break him. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t have been. But the whole thing was still so fresh. He could still see Regris standing at that podium, silhouetted against the stars. And, as he did with everything, he jumped in without thinking. 

“We lost someone.”

Allura drew in a sharp breath, her eyes widening. Clearly she was surprised, but Keith couldn’t imagine why. This was the Blade they were talking about. 

“Oh,” she said faintly. “That’s terrible, Keith.” She took her hand off his knee, but then scooted closer. Not enough to touch, but enough to feel her body heat. “Do you… what was their name?”

“Regris.” His voice cracked again. “He-- he was trying to get some data off of the ship we were on. But he took too long. The ship, it was--” A tear escaped and fell down his cheek. He jumped, tried to wipe it away in time, but it was too late. Allura had seen, and a gasp left her lips. 

“Oh, Keith--”

“I’m fine.” He shook his head from side to side. “I’m ok. I’m good.” But the tears returned with a vengeance, and this time they wouldn’t take no for an answer. The only thing he could do was bury his face in his hands and pray Allura wouldn’t get angry with him. 

For a few seconds she didn’t say anything. Then: “It’s horrible, seeing someone die.”

“I could’ve saved him,” Keith blurted out. He couldn’t hold it in anymore. “I was right there, I told him we had to go, but he didn’t listen, and Kolivan--” 

Allura reached out and pulled him into an embrace, and for once Keith didn’t fight it. Still, he was careful not to grip back too hard. 

“Kolivan pulled me away.”

“I’m so sorry, Keith,” she murmured in his ear. Keith could only press his face to her shoulder. 

There was more, so much more balanced on the tip of his tongue. The looks he kept getting from everyone, Kolivan included. How he was split between two organizations and managed to screw things up at both. The pressure of trying to lead a team when no one wanted him to, least of all him. 

But none of those things made it free. Because as guilty as he felt, logically he knew he wasn’t to blame for Regris’ death. He’d stayed too long, and Kolivan had dragged Keith away. All of the others? Those were all him. He couldn’t demand pity when it was his fault to begin with. 

For now, this was enough. Allura had been kind, had taken the time and made the effort to seek him out, had put up with his bad attitude and emotional turmoil. He shouldn’t expect anything more from her. 

“It’s alright to not be alright,” Allura ventured to say. “We’re all here for you.”

_ Are you? _

Keith pulled away. He sniffled once, then wiped his cheeks and stood up. 

“Thank you. I should probably go talk to the others.” He thought he was putting on a good show, but when he looked down, Allura still had that sad, pensive look on her face. 

Thankfully, she didn’t comment on it. She struggled with a smile for a second before getting to her feet. 

“Yes, we should. They’ve been waiting for you.”

Keith’s stomach twisted. He made sure it didn’t show. 

“After you, Princess.”


	7. Big Happy Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance wants his Earth Family to meet his Space Family. Keith included.

Being back on Earth was surreal. That was the only word Keith could think of to describe it. He’d been gone for so long. There had been a point on the space whale where he wondered if he’d ever see Earth again. Even if they’d made it out of the Quantum Abyss, what did Earth hold for him now? At the time it seemed like the other Paladins had left him behind, and he didn’t dare to hope Krolia would leave the Blade for him or that Kolivan would allow them time to be together. 

But now that he was back, he had to admit that he’d missed it. Coming back to the desert really did feel like coming home. Even the Garrison, despite all of the baggage that came with it, was a welcome addition of familiarity. 

For now he stuck close to the Lions, Kosmo at his side, and kept an eye on everyone milling around on the landing pad. Iverson had moved on to talking to Allura, accompanied by Sam Holt. He’d already seen Griffin storm off somewhere. Pidge was still tangled up with her mom, their dog bouncing around them and barking happily, making Kosmo’s ears prick forward. Coran and Romelle hovered near Allura. Shiro was across the way, talking to some people Keith vaguely remembered having known back in the day, before Kerberos. Hunk had disappeared, which was concerning given the information he’d just received, and Lance was surrounded by his massive family.

He’d just decided to go look for Hunk when a shout caught his attention. 

“Hey, Mullet! Over here!” It was Lance, standing on his tiptoes to be seen and waving an arm over his head, grinning more widely than Keith had ever seen before. Keith obligingly changed direction, Kosmo following dutifully at his heels.

Lance emerged from the huddle to meet him a few steps away. He was beaming, and when he tossed his arm around Keith’s neck, he couldn’t find it in himself to push him away. 

“Everybody,” he said to the group. “This is our Black Paladin, Keith.”

One of the women in the group looked him up and down. She was short and plump, with curly brown hair that was the exact same shade as Lance’s, and by the weathering of her face, Keith assumed her to be Lance’s mother. “Black Paladin? But he’s wearing red.” 

“Ah,” said Lance, flapping a hand carelessly. “Things got a little complicated with the Lions. But he’s the Black Paladin now, isn’t that right, fearless leader?” He smiled at Keith, who made a face back at him. Keith wasn’t entirely sure how this conversation was going to go; things had changed on his end of the relationship after his two year absence, but based on the things Lance had said when they were stranded, it didn’t seem to have changed on Lance’s side. It was possible that he was so happy from seeing his family that he’d be in a charitable mood, but it was also entirely possible that he dragged Keith over here to make fun of him. 

“Wait, did you say Keith?” asked another woman. She was much younger, her hair darker, and an expression of amused disbelief played over her features. “You mean that guy you spent your entire first year at the Garrison complaining about? That Keith?”

Lance groaned at her. “Rachel.” 

“What? You did complain about him.” 

Lance pulled back from his half embrace, but kept one hand on Keith’s back, just above his jet pack, as though to hold him in place. “Keith, this is my sister, Rachel.” 

Rachel waved as a lightbulb lit up over Keith’s head. Of course, he should’ve guessed. Only siblings can tease each other like that during a reunion after a separation of three years.

“These are my other siblings, Veronica, Luis, and Marco.” The two men gave him nods, only Veronica initiating a handshake. Judging by their appearances, Lance was probably the baby of the family. Then again, time had been rather fluid lately. “Back there is Lisa, Luis’ wife. These are my parents, Mama and Papa.” Keith was right, the short woman was Lance’s mother. She shook his hand with a warm smile, as did Mr. McClain. “These are my Abuelo and Abuela, my grandparents. And these two are Luis’ kids, Sylvio and Nadia.”

The two children shoved their way forward, looking up at Keith with wide eyes, one set blue like Lance’s, the other a deep, dark brown. 

“Mr. Keith?” said Sylvio, but with his missing teeth it came out sounding like ‘Mr. Keef’. “Can we play with your puppy?”

Kosmo, laying by Keith’s feet, picked up his head and licked Nadia’s knee, making her giggle. 

“Sure. Be gentle with them, bud.”

Kosmo swished his tail, as though to say  _ of course,  _ then stood up and led the children a few feet away where they could climb all over him without getting in the way. 

Turning back to the group was daunting. Keith had never had an overabundance of family-- first it was him and his dad, then just him, then him and Krolia. The sheer size of Lance’s was overwhelming. No wonder he’d been so homesick when he had all of these people wondering what had happened to him. 

“Do you have anyone waiting here for you, Keith?” asked the oldest man there, the one Lance had called Abuelo. Keith mustered his best, hopefully least awkward, smile and shook his head. 

“No, not here.”

“In that case, you should come have dinner with us,” said Luis, wrapping an arm around his wife. “The food at the Garrison isn’t exactly home made, but it’s not bad, either.”

To Keith, who had spent the last (insert amount of time here) eating food goo and unseasoned meat cooked over a spit, that sounded like the best idea anyone had come up with that day. Still, he shook his head no again. 

“I shouldn’t, the Garrison higher-ups will probably want to talk to me and Allura about the war, and--”

“Nonsense,” declared Abuela, stamping her cane for emphasis. “You’ve only just returned home. All of that war business can wait until you’ve all been welcomed back properly.”

“Uh…” At a loss for words, Keith looked to Lance for help. But he just raised his eyebrows expectantly. So, really, he had no choice. “In that case, I guess I can come along.”

The whole group grinned at him, which was a bit unnerving. It was like being surrounded by a dozen Lances. But he couldn’t think about it for long; the entire group began to head off, herding Keith along with them. 

“Kids!” Lisa called. “Come along now!”

For a second it seemed like the two children hadn’t heard. But Kosmo looked up, and upon seeing Keith moving away from him, bounded to his feet and vanished in mid-air. Jaws dropped all around, and only dropped further when the wolf appeared at Keith’s side with his customary blue sparks. 

“It… teleports?” Veronica asked weakly. 

Lance shrugged. “Space wolves.”

* * *

“Can you believe that, Marco? He said he didn’t remember me!”

“I didn’t,” Keith insisted before shoving another forkful of rice into his mouth. Did Earth food always taste so damn good? He’d nearly cried when they first walked into the cafeteria and smelled the familiar scents, and Lance actually had cried a little bit. “We hadn’t said a word to each other before that night!”

“We were in all of the same classes!” Lance said back. It had been months (or years) since the night they’d rescued Shiro, but Lance still managed to sound just as offended now as he did then. 

“So was Hunk, and I didn’t recognize him either. I’m not good with faces, you know that.”

“You recognized Griffin’s face.”

“Yeah, because I punched it once!”

Laughter reached his ears, and Keith flushed. He’d forgotten that Lance’s family was sitting all around them, but they didn’t seem put off by the knowledge of Keith’s past delinquency-- they were all laughing at the banter between the two of them, like Keith was part of the family. How neat. 

“Give him a break, mijo,” said Mrs. McClain. She was smiling, but with a particular bittersweetness that Keith recognized. She was happy, ecstatic even, to have found her son again, but even that joy couldn’t completely overshadow the years of absence and the things that happened during them. It was a look Krolia got a lot. 

“As I recall,” said Lance’s father, giving Lance a mischievous look, “Lance got asked to a school dance, only to completely forget about the poor girl. Got a good smack from her the next day.”

“Dad,” Lance whined. “That was in middle school!”

Rachel leaned forward, bracing her elbows on either side of her plate. “Didn’t you ask her what her name was when she came up to you?”

The table roared with laughter as Lance’s cheeks turned red. “I was twelve, guys, come on!”

Marco smirked at him from across the table. “I hope you’ve been doing a better job wooing the Princess.”

Lance turned even redder, and for the first time since Keith had met him, was completely speechless. Keith smiled to himself and focused on his rice. The conversation went on, flowing around him like a river; Lance’s family had a million questions for him about the Lions, where he’d been, what they’ve been doing. Lance was answering in his usual dramatic style, but Keith did notice how he avoided talking about injuries or deaths or the hundreds of planets Zarkon had destroyed. Judging by the looks the adults were exchanging, they noticed too. But they didn’t say anything about it. 

Eventually it came back around to him, when Veronica caught his eye and asked, “So, Keith, do you have anyone special waiting for you somewhere?”

Keith suppressed a cringe as the whole table stopped talking to hear his answer. “Uh, no, no I don’t. I’m not really-- I don’t date.”

To his relief, Veronica just nodded in understanding. Lance, of course, couldn’t resist adding his two cents. 

“Nahhhh, Keith only cares about knives and space wolves.”

“I have one knife,” Keith retorted. “And I care about plenty of other things, too.” His tone was exasperated, but underneath he was thankful for the distraction. 

“What about family?” asked Abuela. “Where are they?”

“Um…” One by one, he checked the various faces around him. At the moment they all just looked curious, but that could change. After all, Earth was still under Galra occupation. People had been enslaved. People had been killed. Now was possibly not the best time to reveal his ancestry. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Keith saw Lance turn to look at him. He narrowed his eyes, then abruptly turned back to his family and announced, “Keith’s mom is with the Blade.”

Keith’s head snapped around, but Lance ignored his accusing gaze and continued, “We’re not sure exactly what she’s doing right now, but she’ll show up eventually.”

Mrs. McClain tilted her head. “What is that?”

“The full name is the Blade of Marmora,” Lance answered nonchalantly. “They’re a Galra rebel group. They do spy work and shit.”

Abuelo gasped, and Lance winced. “That’s no way to speak in the company of guests, Lance.”

“It’s ok,” said Keith immediately. “You should hear Pidge.”

“Anyway,” Lance continued, all in a rush, “Keith’s a member too. They do some crazy sh-- stuff. Some crazy stuff.”

There was a moment of quiet over the table. But, to Keith’s relief (and surprise), none of them seemed taken aback or offended by the implication of Lance’s words. If anything they seemed interested, and maybe even a little concerned. 

“Isn’t that dangerous?” asked Lisa. 

“Oh, uh,” Keith stumbled a bit as everyone's attention turned back to him. “Sometimes, but-- the whole situation is dangerous, really.”

Their faces turned solemn. Rachel muttered a bitter, “You can say that again,” under her breath, and Marco picked at the last bite of rice on his plate. But before Keith could get anxious over ruining the mood, Luis’ attention was drawn away by a tug on his shirt, and a small voice was heard from behind the table. 

“Papa, can we go play with the puppy again?”

Luis cast a questioning look at Keith. He smiled and nodded, allowing the man to turn back to his son with a softer expression. “Alright, mijo, but remember to be gentle.”

“We will!” Sylvio promised. There was the sound of small footsteps and Kosmo’s distinctive  _ pop,  _ then the quiet returned. Now it felt a little more comfortable, and dare he say, familial. Even with him, an outsider, there, Lance’s family managed to make them all feel included. 

There were still things to worry about. He still had to check on Hunk and Shiro, and go talk to Iverson and Allura, and sort out clothes and food and places to stay for the next however long. But for right now, he didn’t have to think about any of it. 

He could just… breathe. 


	8. How To Negate Cabin Fever 101

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What does one do when stuck in a cave on the back of a space whale?   
> One plays Hangman, of course.

When they first landed on the back of this space whale, Keith had been foreseeing a lot of possible obstacles. Lack of control and knowledge of their surroundings, for one. Unknown and potentially deadly flora and fauna. Unpredictable and alien weather. Shelter. Clean water. Those were the things he was worried about. 

What he’d failed to account for was something far less dramatic, but far more infuriating-- sheer boredom. There was always more work to be done, but a body can only withstand so much activity before it gives up, and with how long some of the nights were, and how hostile the weather could be, they had stretches of several days when they couldn’t venture outside of their cave. That’s when the boredom struck hardest. 

Today was one such day. The wind outside the cave was howling like a blizzard, but instead of snow the air was filled by tiny black specks-- sharper than obsidian and finer than sand. On second thought, the howling could’ve also been from some kind of lifeform caught in the storm. Keith had poked a single finger outside that morning (or when they woke up, anyway) and in less than a second it was scoured bloody. 

So they stayed inside. The heat of their fire was smothering, and wasn’t helped by the warmth of the wolf, who had his head draped across Keith’s lap as he dozed. Krolia stood against one of the walls, staring out at the shrieking darkness. It rang in Keith’s ears, his skin was beginning to prickle under his suit; he could practically hear the ticking as his patience clock wound down. 

_ Tick… tick… tick… _

He wasn’t sure what made him snap. It could’ve been the crunch of dirt under Krolia’s feet as she shifted her weight. It could’ve been the wolf beginning to snore. It could’ve been the jarring crash of a tree being blown over outside. Whatever it was, Keith had officially had enough. 

“That’s it!” he exclaimed, making both Krolia and the wolf jump. “I can’t just sit around anymore.” 

Krolia quirked an eyebrow. “What are you going to do instead? Exercise routines?”

“No,” said Keith. He moved to the middle of the floor and sat cross-legged, unsheathing his blade. “Come over here.”

Her other eyebrow rose to join the first, but Krolia did straighten up from the wall and came closer. “What are you doing?”

With the point of his knife Keith began to etch lines into the dirt. “We,” he said as he worked, “are going to play a game.”

“A game?” Krolia settled onto her knees on the other side of Keith’s drawing, watching his movements with interest. “An Earth game?”

Keith nodded. “It’s called Hangman.”

Krolia tilted her head. Keith had just finished etching the shape of the scaffold, but paused for a moment, considering. It would be a pain to scratch everything into the ground and hard to wipe away between rounds. A piece of charcoal from the fire solved that problem-- all he had to do was brush away the dust, then he could write with it on the stone beneath. 

“What are the rules?”

Keith sat back on his heels. It was a little messy, but it would work. Desperate times and all that. 

“It’s a word guessing game,” Keith began to explain as he marked out the lines for his chosen word. “Each of these lines is for a letter, which all go together to form a word that I’ve thought of. You guess letters one by one. If your guess is right, I write them where they belong in the word to help you guess what it is. If it’s wrong, I draw a body part on the scaffold. If you guess the word before there’s a full body, you win. If you run out of guesses, I win.” 

“Hm.” Her brow was furrowed a bit, but she didn’t seem completely lost. “Alright. Let’s try it.” 

Keith shot her a quick smile of gratitude. “Ok, this one is eight letters. Go ahead and make your first guess.” 

Krolia thought for a moment, then said, “A.”

Keith marked down an A. 

“A again.”

Keith snorted. “No, you only guess each letter once. If it’s in the word more than that I’ll mark it all down.”

“Oh. Ok.” Another pause. “B.”

Keith drew a circle under the end of the scaffold, and Krolia frowned. 

“What’s that?”

“A head. The first part of the hanged man.”

“Oh… Zon.”

Now it was Keith’s turn to frown. “Huh?”

“Zon,” Krolia repeated. “It’s a letter.”

Keith blinked. Right, he’d forgotten that technically, Krolia spoke another language. 

“I’m just gonna count that as a Z,” said Keith, and marked it down. 

“K.”

“F.”

“C.”

“N.”

“I.”

“Q.”

“M.”

Krolia narrowed her eyes and tilted her head. “Is it… did you pick quiznack?”

Keith grinned. “Yep. Congrats! You win.”

“Where did you learn that?” Krolia asked in complete bafflement. “That’s an ancient Altean curse.”

“Yeah, I learned it from the ancient Alteans.” At that point, Keith still hadn’t told Krolia everything about how he found his way to the Blade. There were the visions from the Abyss, of course, but those were mostly snippets without context. He didn’t know how much Kolivan had told her, if anything. 

But, at least for now, Krolia let it go. “If you’d like… I can teach you a game that Galra children play.”

He didn’t let it show on the outside, but in his chest his heart beat a little faster. He still didn’t know much about Galra culture-- the Alteans weren’t big on remembering it, and the Blade didn’t seem to do much besides eat, sleep, and run missions. Part of Keith jumped at the opportunity to learn about his mother’s culture--  _ his  _ culture-- but another part recoiled. It hadn’t been that long ago that Allura had frozen him out, after all. 

But the wind was still howling. 

“Sure.”

Krolia held out a hand for their shared blade. Keith handed it over, and she quickly etched a rough circle into the dirt. Then she split it with straight lines, like a tic-tac-toe board. 

“Is there a rock near you?”

Keith glanced around. There was a pebble next to his knee, which he scooped up and gave to Krolia, who nodded in approval. 

“To play the game, you close your eyes, and I’ll drop the rock onto the board. You have to guess which quadrant it landed in. If you get it right, I’ll mark the quadrant as yours and you’ll keep going. If you get it wrong, it’ll be my turn. First one to claim five quadrants is the victor.”

“Oh… I don’t know if my hearing is good enough for that.”

Krolia’s lips curled into a smile. “If it’s not, the game will go quickly. 

“Fair enough,” Keith sighed, and closed his eyes. “Ready.”

“Listen carefully.”

_ Dink.  _

It was barely audible over the wing and scouring of sand, but Keith did hear it. He wasn’t sure where, exactly-- maybe on the left?”

“Um. Center left?”

“Correct,” said Krolia in a pleased tone, and the dirt scraped as she marked the success. “Try again.”

But this time when the pebble fell, it got drowned out by the storm, and Keith didn’t have a clue as to where it might have landed. 

“Upper right?” he guessed. 

Krolia tsked. “No.” Keith opened his eyes and cringed-- it was dead center of the board. “Now it’s my turn.” 

Krolia was much better at the game than Keith was. She never hesitated, and got three correct before missing one. Keith managed to eke out two more correct answers, but Krolia soundly defeated him on her second turn. 

“Stupid human hearing,” he grumbled, and Krolia chuckled. 

“Here, teach me another Earth game.”

He thought for a moment, then scooted to the side and marked out a normal tic-tac-toe board. 

“This one is simple. We take turns putting our marks in the squares, one per turn. I’m X’s, you’re O’s. The first person to get three in a row, horizontally, vertically, or diagonally, wins.”

His mother nodded solemnly, like she was receiving battle orders. “Can we put our marks over each others?”

“No, once a square is claimed, that’s it. But we can block each other. X goes first.”

In their first game, Krolia focused solely on getting a three in a row. But because X’s go first, Keith wound up winning. The second game ended in a draw, since she only tried to block him and they ran out of spaces. Finally, on the third game, Krolia got three O’s diagonally across the board and was triumphant. 

They spent the rest of the day trading games. A lot of the Galra games focused on using various senses in isolation. They attempted I Spy, the closest thing to that Keith could think of, but there wasn’t very much in the cave to spy. 

They were playing mancala with stones when the storm outside finally began to dissipate. By then the light was fading; there was barely time for Keith to run out for more firewood before the darkness swallowed them entirely. The wolf pup spent those few minutes running in rapid circles outside the cave, trying to burn off his excess energy. 

“I should make playing cards,” Keith said, half to himself as he urged the fire larger. “Or carve some checkers.”

“Your father and I used to play that game,” said Krolia with a fond smile. “And poker.”

Keith couldn’t help but laugh. “You must’ve had a great poker face.”

She nodded in agreement. “Working undercover will do that.”

“God, can you imagine playing poker with Kolivan?” Keith gave a theatrical shudder, and Krolia laughed out loud. 

“That’s a game even your father wouldn’t join.” Her gaze turned contemplative as the laughter faded, and when she spoke next her voice was soft. “You look just like him.”

Keith’s throat tightened. “He used to say the same thing about you.”

For a moment they just looked at each other. Slowly, Krolia unfolded her arms, and Keith froze.

They’d been on the space whale for about a month now. In that amount of time, neither of them had tried to initiate contact. He’d been mostly fine with that. He knew that as soon as they got back to the Blade he and Krolia would be assigned separately-- Kolivan wouldn’t want to risk either of them jeopardizing a mission out of familial love. There was no point in getting attached if that was what awaited them. 

But… it had been a month. Who knew how long they would be stuck out there. Maybe forever. 

Keith moved into her embrace. Her arms were wiry and strong, and despite the armor he could feel her body heat. 

Unexpected tears rose in his eyes, but Keith fought them back. He wasn’t ready for that much vulnerability yet.

He almost changed his mind when Krolia ran a hand through his hair. 

“I think we’ll be alright,” she murmured. 

Keith closed his eyes. “I think so, too.”


	9. Arrrrrrr, They Be Roommates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, they were roommates

Keith shaded his eyes against the harsh tropical sun and swept a weathered gaze across the horizon. Not a speck of white to be seen in the vast expanse of the sky. 

“Nothing yet,” he reported, dropping his hand to rest on the hilt of his cutlass. “Are we getting close?”

“‘We’ he says,” grumbled Shiro as he tossed another shovel full of sand out of the hole he was standing in. “Who’s this ‘we’?”

Keith rolled his eyes. “You’re the one who suggested one of us keep watch.”

Shiro mumbled something else, but Keith wasn’t paying attention. A breeze had just come off of the waves a dozen yards or so from them, and it felt heavenly as it passed through his cotton shirt and dried the sweat on his skin. The sun was always a problem. It made the white sand blinding-- both of them would be blinking away spots when they returned to the ship. 

“Are you sure we’re digging in the right place?” Shiro called from the hole. 

Keith sighed, but obligingly produced the ragged piece of parchment from his belt and unrolled it. The ink was old, faded from the sun and smeared by waves, but the words could still be deciphered if you squinted. 

“It says five paces east from the bent coconut tree.” Even though Shiro wasn’t looking, Keith pointed to the tree that stood nearby, just far enough away that it’s shade didn’t fall on them. “There’s the tree. And,” he checked his compass, “We’re five paces east.”

“Maybe the person who buried it--” Shiro grunted, “Had a longer stride than you.”

“Or a shorter one,” Keith retorted. 

“I’m just saying--”

_ Thunk.  _

Now that was the sound they’d been waiting for.

“We’ve got a chest.”

Keith shoved the parchment back into his belt and scrambled down into the hole. Hot sand filled his boots, and in some places the ground was dark from the incoming tide, but Keith only had eyes for one thing-- the slats of old wood underfoot, just barely visible under the sand. 

“Jackpot,” he muttered, and dropped to one knee to brush the sand aside. Shiro stood to the side, catching his breath. Sand was everywhere-- caked to his skin, in his hair, settled over his black clothes like the fine white powder the ladies in the outposts wore. 

“Is it the one we’re looking for?”

Running his fingers over the lid, Keith detected a slight impression in the wood. He leaned forward, blocking the glare of the sun with his body, and narrowed his eyes. 

“Captain Leeroy Jenkins,” he read aloud, and smiled. “Yep, this is it.”

With a pleased expression, Shiro came forward and slipped his hook into one of the handles. Keith gripped the other with both hands, and together they hauled the chest out of the hole and onto the beach. 

“Finally,” Shiro groaned. He pulled himself halfway out, then collapsed onto his back, closing his eyes against the bright blue of the sky. 

The chest was exceedingly simple, oak wood and iron fittings, and exceedingly old, the planks shrinking away from each other and the metal coated in rust. Keith studied the lock on the front, then glanced over at Shiro. 

“Can I borrow your pistol?”

Shiro shot him a wary look. “For what?”

“I’m not gonna hurt it.”

“Ugh, fine.” He pulled the item in question from its holster and offered the handle to Keith. He took it, turned it around, and used the grip to smash apart the ancient lock. 

“Hey!” yelped Shiro as he scrambled upright. 

“It’s fine.” Keith tossed it back to him, then removed the rusty padlock and tossed that aside as well. But before he could push it open, a noise caught his attention. 

It was a subtle sound. Sand as it shifted and fell, coupled with the distinct creaking of bones held together with magic rather than flesh. 

“Shit,” he spat, drawing his sword as he got to his feet. Shiro was already up and aiming-- the pistol popped with a puff of gunpowder, knowing a skull from its body before it had even finished clawing its way out of the sand. 

He fell back a few steps to reload and Keith took his place. His golden blade glinting in the sunlight, he directed a forceful slash against an oncoming skeleton’s ribcage. It snarled as the magic failed and its bones fell to pieces. He didn’t know how they did that without vocal cords or lungs, but magic was just like that, he supposed. 

Shiro fired his pistol again. This time the shot went wide, so he just punched the damn thing so hard its jaw broke clean off. Keith dispatched two more with as many strikes with the blade. 

“Keith!”

He whirled to face Shiro, whose eyes had gone wide, not even acknowledging the skeleton clawing its way to the surface at his heels. 

“Gunpowder!”

Keith spun again, but it was too late. His vision was already filled with wood painted red, the black skeleton stamped on the outside of the barrel staring into his eyes. And the fuse, he noted with horror, was already burning down. 

The barrel went up in flames, taking Keith with it. 

* * *

“Fuck!” Keith threw up his hands and sat back from the computer. The screen was tinged with red, the prompt over the middle of it reading ‘Release soul to the Ferryman’. Five feet to his right, Shiro was laughing while still trying to kill the skeletons on his monitor. 

“I saw the barrel but it was too late,” groaned Keith. 

“You’ll be back on the ship in a minute,” replied Shiro. “Grab some bombs while you’re there.”

A door opened in the background. Keith guided his avatar to the proper place to await resurrection, then turned his chair to see Lance walking into the apartment, chattering on his phone to someone. Probably Hunk. 

“Come on, Keith, the portal’s ready.”

He turned back around and ran his character into the portal. One short loading screen later he was back on their tiny ship, bobbing on the waves. From deck Keith could see Shiro running around on the beach, pursued by skeletons, one of which was clutching another red barrel. 

“Right. More bombs, you said?”


	10. Smooth as Silk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When amongst rave aliens, do as the rave aliens do

Coran just  _ adored  _ parties. Particularly the ones that didn’t happen aboard the Castle. They got to eat well, drink well, enjoy good company and live music, and for once got to relax. And someone  _ else  _ got to clean it all up afterward. Yes, Coran was a regular party animal, as they said on Earth, and the Kulbaxi people were just the same. 

Their ballroom was vast, large even by the Castle’s standards, every available space packed with Kulbaxi dancing to bass heavy music, cranked up so loud he could feel it in his chest like a third heartbeat. 

Coran made his way through the crowd, clutching an empty glass to his chest to avoid getting it knocked from his hand. The dim lights strobed purple and blue overhead. That made it difficult to see, but Coran was fairly certain the bar was somewhere in the center of the room. Unfortunately it was slow going with all of the thin, translucent bodies surrounding him; Coran just tried not to look at any of their internal organs and focused on his objective. 

Eventually he reached the circle of glass that made up the bar. Hundreds of bottles and boxes were on display, three more Kulbaxi running around serving as bartenders. There were a few couples and even a group of three leaning against various portions of the bar getting, ahem, intimate. Not a single person was there alone. 

Coran shouldered his way to the bar and set his glass down, beckoning to one of the bartenders. Her hands were full, but she did make it to him within ten doboshes. 

“What can I get for you, Advisor?” she asked. For a moment Coran was distracted by the movement of her vocal chords in her throat, but dismissed it with a shake of the head. 

“Another one of those turquoise drinks, if you would.”

She smiled. Well, he called it a smile, but since her teeth were already visible, it was hard to tell. He assumed that when the sparks of neurons firing trailed down their faces, it meant they were smiling. 

“Coming right up.” She ducked down beneath the counter, her bright fuschia hair blocking exactly which bottle she grabbed. “Want anything else?” she asked as she refilled his glass. “Some  _ melwey,  _ perhaps?”

“Ah, maybe later,” he said, eyeing the boxes beneath the counter with trepidation. 

“You sure? There’s one,  _ tallu,  _ that makes your ears ring with the songs of sirens.” She smiled wide (here meaning with extra sparkles) and slid his glass over to his gloved hand. “Or maybe some silk? Makes the world feel seamless.”

“No, thank you.” He said it with more force that time, so the bartender held up her see through hands in surrender. 

Taking a sip of his drink, Coran scanned the room again. From where he stood he could see a few of the other team members: the Princess was still at the head of the room, speaking with the elected leaders of the Kulbaxi, Shiro had excused himself outside sometime before, and he could see Pidge perched atop Hunk’s shoulders to avoid being crushed. Lance was nowhere to be found-- probably on the dance floor somewhere-- and Keith was known for sneaking out of parties. 

He looked around the bar. No one was there alone… except for a lone figure in red.

Keith looked absolutely miserable, sitting slumped forward with his elbows on the counter. He had his hands slipped under his hair to cover his ears, and his eyes were squeezed shut against the flashing lights. It was that that made Coran choose to keep his distance. For the moment, at least. No need to pester him with conversation at a time like this. 

Coran sipped at his drink contemplatively. He would like to dance a bit more, but perhaps he should make his way back to Allura. It was getting late, and although the Kulbaxi could probably party all night, they unfortunately had a schedule to keep. 

A splotch of color caught his eye; the fuschia hair of the bartender as she mixed a drink. She was standing closer to Keith’s position now, and the bars second lone patron sat across from her. He was translucent as the rest of the Kulbaxi, and had a thick mane of russet hair starting on his head and running all the way down his spine, as Coran saw through his torso. 

The bartender filled his glass with clear liquid. Then she reached down, plucked something from a box, and dropped it into the glass. It let out a stream of pink bubbles and fizz. 

_ Probably melwey,  _ Coran thought, and looked away. 

He lingered over his drink, the tangy flavor reminding him of juniverries, and considered his options. By the time he’d finished it he’d come to the reluctant decision to herd the others back to the Castle. Lance might complain, but they really did need their sleep. He would tell Keith first, since he was so close, and to save him some suffering. 

Coran turned back to the counter to set down his glass and paused. Keith had a glass next to his elbow now, pink and fizzy, a ring of bubbles marking where he’d drunk some of the liquid. That wasn’t cause for alarm in and of itself, but as Coran watched, the man with orange hair got up and swaggered over to where Keith sat. 

Coran’s brows rose. This would be interesting. Hopefully Keith wouldn’t punch him, but that likelihood decreased sharply when the man laid one arm over the back of Keith’s chair and braced the other on the bar, boxing him in. 

The humans hadn’t been in space long, but by then even Coran knew that Keith liked his personal space. The advisor waited for him to tense up, pull away from the strange man, cross his arms and probably glare. 

But, against every prediction in the universe, Keith did none of that. Instead his head lolled, rolling to the side from where it had been resting on folded arms, and he looked blearily at the man, presumably at the smile sparks running over his cheeks. 

At the same time, Coran saw something deep and red course through the man’s body. 

He said something to Keith that Coran couldn’t hear over the thumping music. Keith stared at him for a moment, then slowly shook his head. The red went through the Kulbaxi again, and he moved his arm to wrap around Keith’s shoulders instead. He barely reacted. 

Well, that settled it. Something here was wrong; Coran set his jaw and dove into the crowd, following the curve of the bar towards Keith’s seat. But there were so many people-- it felt like he moved through the throng for decaphoebs, and was panting with effort when he reached the seat. The  _ empty  _ seat. 

He was in the right spot-- the glass was still there, half empty. But Keith and the mystery man were nowhere to be seen. The only people nearby who weren’t absorbed in dancing was the intimate trio, still in their close huddle. 

Desperate times…

“Excuse me,” he said in as chipper a tone he could muster. “Pardon me, you three.”

Three pairs of eyes reluctantly turned in his direction, though if they had eyelids to cover them, Coran couldn’t see them. 

“What?” asked the Kulbaxi in the middle. She had two purple swirls painted over her cheeks, and the clear lips of both of her partners were stained with the same shade. 

“Sorry to interrupt, but there was a lad in red sitting here a few doboshes ago. He may have left with a man with orange hair-- did you happen to see which direction they went in?”

The Kulbaxi on the left, this one with verdant green eyes, tilted her head. “He was one of your Paladins, right?”

Coran nodded eagerly. 

“That way.” The painted Kulbaxi tilted her head to the right, towards one of the closer walls. “There’s some rooms back there for people who prefer their… privacy.” 

The one on the right made a dim humming noise. “He looked pretty relaxed. Like he’d been tasting silk.”

Coran’s stomach dropped. He managed a stammered thank you, then set off in the direction they’d indicated, going as fast as he could. For once he abandoned politeness entirely, shoving people out of the way if he had to. 

The entrance to the private rooms was a simple tinted arch. The walls inside were similarly tinted, so that passerby could see little more than silhouettes, but luckily he didn’t have to start searching them for his quarries. They were in the middle of the hall. 

The man had Keith backed up against the wall-- though perhaps he should say propped, as it seemed the only thing keeping Keith upright was the Kulbaxi pressed against his front. He had both hands shoved up Keith’s shirt, hitching it up halfway, his translucent skin nearly entirely filled with that pulsing red light as he murmured into Keith’s ear. 

As he stomped over, Coran caught a snippet. 

“Such a tease, not letting me see… Can’t wait to find out what’s inside…”

“Stop this at once!” Coran declared once he was close. The man looked up in surprise, and Keith’s head fell to the side, resting on the shoulder the Kulbaxi had just vacated with closed eyes. 

“Advisor,” the man greeted in a deep, rumbling voice. “Your Paladin and I are merely enjoying each other. Aren’t we,  _ dwixi?” _

Coran didn’t know what that word meant, but the red light pulsed again, and he decided that he didn’t want to know. 

“Unhand him,” Coran insisted. His hands trembled at his sides with rage. “Or I will be forced to summon the other Paladins and drag you before your council for harassing a diplomatic guest.”

The Kulbaxi scowled at him, but the red began to fade, and he withdrew his hands from Keith. “Fine. Ruin our fun.” He stepped back, leaving Keith to crumble to the floor without support, and stormed off down the hall. 

Within ticks Coran was at Keith’s side. His eyes were still closed, but he managed to open them a slit. “C’ran?” he mumbled, on the verge of incoherent. “‘S that you?”

“Yes, Number Four, it’s me.” He put a hand on Keith’s shoulder and he immediately tilted into it, so much so that Coran had to grab his other one to steady him. The Red Paladin was breathing heavily, chest heaving, his bangs sticking to his forehead with sweat. 

“S’mth’ns… wrong…”

“I know. Don’t worry lad, we’re going home. I’ll take care of you.”

With some difficulty, Coran hauled one of Keith’s arms over his shoulders and heaved the two of them upright. It would be a slow and clumsy walk back to the Castle, but it was the best he could do. 

“Alright, here we go.”

Strangely enough, none of the Kulbaxi looked twice at them as they headed for the exist. Some even moved out of their way. Perhaps they were used to seeing people like this-- or perhaps they were just kind. 

“Coran?” Keith muttered at one point. “Someone’s to-touchin’ me.”

“It’s just me, lad. Just me.”

When they finally escaped the building, the silence was almost deafening. Shiro was nowhere to be seen on that side of the garden, so Coran focused on getting Keith back to the Castle. He could fill the others in later. 

* * *

Keith didn’t argue when Coran took him to the infirmary. 

“Here we are,” he said. His shoulders ached with gratitude as Keith’s weight was transferred to a cot, but Coran didn’t straighten up until he’d moved Keith’s legs onto it as well and he seemed to be resting comfortably. “Home safe.”

Keith didn’t respond. If he had any luck that meant the boy was asleep, so Coran tiptoed to the center podium and pulled up all the information he could find on silk. He tried not to think too much as he went-- imagining what could’ve happened if he’d been a dobosh later, or if Keith had really been alone at that bar, wouldn’t fix anything. He had to focus on the present. 

He’d just dismissed another useless article about a kind of Earth cloth when shifting on the cot drew his attention. Keith’s face was screwed up in distress, his head tossing restlessly on the pillow, sounds of protest escaping his lips. When Coran rushed over he could discern only one word: “No.”

“There now, Number Four,” Coran said quietly, sinking to a kneel at his bedside. “It’s alright now.”

“Someone’s touching me,” Keith groaned. His body jerked as he tried to roll onto his side, away from the phantom hands. “I don’t-- I don’t want them to-- to touch me.”

“No one’s touching you. I’m the only one in the room, I swear.”

Keith merely whined. 

“Keith, listen to me.” Very gently, Coran took his hand. At first Keith jumped and tried to pull away, but after a moment relaxed. Perhaps the texture of the glove helped differentiate him from the other man. “You were drugged. But you’re home now, and no one is going to touch you like that again. I promise.”

Keith forced his eyes open. They looked strange, the pupils far too large, but evidently he could recognize Coran enough to let them close again. Then he squeezed Coran’s hand and whispered, “Don’t tell Shiro.”

Coran was stunned. “Why in the universe not?” he asked without thinking, and Keith cringed and turned his head away. 

“I screwed up. Shoulda known b’tter.”

Coran couldn’t help his sad sigh. “This wasn’t your fault, Keith. Not even remotely.”

Keith only murmured, “Should have known better,” before promptly losing consciousness. 

* * *

Not half a varga later, Coran was meeting the rest of the team as they returned from the party. They were all rumpled and exhausting looking, most of them immediately setting off for bed. Coran waited for them to disperse, then subtly pulled Shiro to the side. 

“He was  _ what?” _

Coran hushed the Black Paladin. They were right outside the infirmary, after all. “Yes, he was drugged at the party. One of the Kulbaxi got a bit… handsy with him, but I interrupted before anything else could happen.”

“Is he gonna be ok?” was Shiro’s next question. “The drug isn’t going to make him sick, is it?”

“No, I don’t think so. He’ll be good as new as soon as he sleeps it off.”

For a moment, Shiro just looked at him. Suddenly he reached out and yanked Coran into one of the tightest embraces he’d ever had. 

“Thank you,” Shiro said softly. “For protecting him.”

Coran smiled and patted Shiro’s back. “Of course. Always.”

When Keith woke the next morning, it was to both Shiro and Coran at his side. 


	11. A Gentle Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone needs first aid after the fight with Lotor. Especially Keith.

“Jeez, whoever you were fighting really did a number on you.”

Keith drew in a pained breath through his teeth as he pulled his helmet off of his head. The adrenaline from the battle was fading, and now he could feel all of the aches and pains from it, like the cracked rib he could feel under his chest plate. 

“It’s not that bad.”

Hunk snorted, and Keith couldn’t blame him-- it wasn’t his best lie ever. 

“Just sit down. The group already said we weren’t moving until everyone got fixed up.”

Keith grunted and slowly sat down in Black’s pilot seat. “We should be worrying about Shiro.”

“Which is why Coran and Allura are with him, and I’m in here with you.” Hunk appeared at the side of the chair, first aid kit in hand, and Keith obligingly turned the chair to face him. “First things first, let’s deal with that burn.”

That Keith didn’t argue with. He’d been trying to ignore it, but a plasma burn wasn’t something to fuck around with.

Hunk opened the kit across Black’s dashboard and began to rummage through it. Keith pulled his vambraces off, discarding them on the floor beside him. Even they were scraped to hell and covered in scorch marks. 

“Ok, here we go.” Hunk turned to Keith with a disinfecting wipe in hand. “This is gonna hurt, probably, so I’m sorry in advance.”

Keith waved a dismissive hand. He didn’t want to talk, he could feel the burn pulling his skin tight, and pain was slowly blooming across the underside of his jaw. 

Reaching out slowly so as to avoid making him flinch, Hunk gave a purposeful swipe with the wipe. Keith’s entire body jolted as the burn lit up white hot. 

“Fuck,” he gasped, “That fucking burns.” It was almost as bad as when he got it-- he thought. The fight was a bit of a blur. 

Hunk waited patiently. Keith took a few deep breaths, counting the seconds, and when the blood stopped rushing in his ears, he sat forward again. 

“Ok, go.”

The second swipe wasn’t better, nor was the third. After that Hunk took pity on him and set the wipe aside. 

“Coran said that some of this ointment on a bandage should be enough,” he said as he unpacked the rest of the supplies. “Let’s hope Altean first aid is as magical as the pods, right?”

Keith let out a quiet sound of agreement. Hunk didn’t dally, and even though it stung, soon enough the bandage was on and that part, at least, was done and over with. 

Hunk looked pleased. “Ok, what’s next?”

Gingerly, Keith tilted his chin up, and Hunk gasped. 

“Dude, what the hell did that?”

“Uh…”

Luckily Hunk wasn’t waiting for an answer. He was already grabbing another wipe from the kit and urging him to tilt his head back again. The swipes and pressure were unpleasant, but not nearly as bad as it had been on the burn. Still, he was lucky he wasn’t spitting out teeth after that uppercut. 

“You’re really bruised up, it’s probably gonna be swollen for awhile. But nothing that requires a bandage.” 

“Great,” Keith croaked. 

“Are you doing ok?” Hunk asked with a new level of concern in his voice. Keith looked back down and grimaced. 

“Yeah, I just-- I got pretty beat up back there. I think one of my ribs is cracked.”

Hunk drew in a quick breath, panic flashing across his face. “Why didn’t you say anything before?” he exclaimed. 

“Distracted,” said Keith, gesturing to his bandaged cheek.

“Ok, ok, Coran said there was a wrap in here for broken bones, just hang on a sec.”

While he dug through the kit, Keith decided to try and get his chestplate off, just to speed up the process, but as soon as he raised his arms higher than elbow level, fire licked up his side. He couldn’t help the sound he made, and that was enough to pull Hunk’s attention back to him. 

“Keith! Don’t try to take that off by yourself!” With light, but forceful, hands Hunk tugged his arms back to his sides. “You’re just as impatient as ever.”

“Am not,” Keith muttered. Hunk pretended not to hear as he turned back to the kit. 

“Just sit still for a minute so I can find this thing. Ah, here it is!” From the box he pulled a long strip of cloth in usual Altean blue. 

Keith wasn’t surprised that such a single thing could heal broken bones; he’d just come off a two-year sting on the back of a space whale with his alien mother, after all. 

“Ok, now we can take your chestplate off, but we’re doing it  _ slowly,  _ got it?”

Keith rolled his eyes, but gave a begrudging nod. He allowed Hunk to help him lift his arms, just enough for Hunk to pull the chestplate off, all while Keith bit back gasps of pain. 

“Suit next.” Hunk hesitated, then asked, “Do you want me to turn around, or--”

“No, it’s ok.” He’d gotten used to changing in front of someone on the space whale. He allowed Hunk to unzip the back of the suit before carefully extracting his arms from the sleeves. As it was peeled away the suit released its compression around Keith’s torso; he breathed in, eager for a good, relaxed breath, but instead he got a kick of pain. 

“Ok,” he said through gritted teeth. “Let’s get this over with.” But when he turned to face him, Hunk was staring at him with large, horrified eyes. 

Keith frowned and looked down at himself. What he saw made his breath hitch again. 

The entire right side of his torso was one huge bruise, black and blue and growing darker by the moment, swelling localized around the damaged rib. And that wasn’t the only one-- his stomach, his chest, his arms, and probably his back were all covered in bruises and cuts and scrapes. It was actually kind of horrifying, even for him. 

“What were you fighting?” Hunk asked, voice trembling. 

Keith had to think fast. “Uh, it was some kind of new sentry drone. Thing was fuckin’ huge. It was… brutal.” That part, at least, was true. 

“I’ll say.” Hunk closed his eyes to center himself, and when he opened them again, there was a new glint of determination there. “Let’s deal with the rib first, then take care of the rest. Unless,” he fixed Keith with a stern look, “You have any other big injuries I should know about?”

Keith shook his head. “I don’t think so. Could be wrong, though. I’m still kinda hazy.”

Hunk twisted his mouth, but pulled the wrap back out without saying anything more on the subject. 

“Tell me if I’m making it too tight.”

Despite the warning, Hunk was gentle with him. A certain amount of pain was unavoidable, but Hunk was careful not to pull it too tightly, and he paused whenever Keith breathed in too sharply. The wrap stuck to itself when Hunk pressed the end to the rest of it. Convenient. 

“Now for cuts and bruises. Say something if I touch somewhere you don’t want me to.” Hunk got down on his knees, a tube of antibacterial ointment in one hand and a box of adhesive bandages in the other. 

Keith nodded. The exhaustion was beginning to set in. The last time he fell asleep it was on the space whale, with only Krolia and his wolf. And now he was back with the others, he had Shiro back (for real this time), and he’d brought along another Altean. A lot had happened, and as the last traces of adrenaline disappeared from his system, he could feel his energy going with it. Even the pain felt dim and distant. 

Hunk set about his task, and Keith tried to stay awake. Hunk wasn’t helping-- his hands were warm, his touch so gentle, like he could feel Keith’s pain and didn’t want to make it worse.

He’d gotten hurt in the Abyss a few times. When Krolia tended to him she was quick, efficient, and impersonal-- she’d learned some more intimate gestures as they grew closer, but her first aid remained as Blade-like as ever. Keith hadn’t realized what he’d been missing. 

After a two-year absence, it was only then that Keith realized how much he’d missed his team. 

“Keith?”

Blinking back into reality, Keith looked curiously at Hunk. “Huh?”

Hunk averted his eyes and smoothed a bandage onto a cut on his stomach. “Nothing. You just zoned out for a second.”

“Oh.” Hunk could probably sense it when Keith paused. Another hard lesson he’d learned in the Abyss was that it wouldn’t be the end of the world if he was a little vulnerable. But that didn’t make the next sentence any easier to say. “I-- how long was I with the Blades?”

Hunk looked a little concerned, but answered, “A few months, maybe. Why?”

_ Christ.  _ That was a hell of a discrepancy. 

“It’s nothing, just… Time worked differently when we were in the Abyss.”

Hunk stopped in the middle of opening the ointment tube. Slowly, he turned his searching, disbelieving eyes onto him. 

“How… how long were you there?”

Keith swallowed hard. “Two years.” 

Hunk’s jaw dropped, and Keith cringed. 

“Yeah, I know. I guess I…” he cleared his throat. He wanted to say the next part like he meant it. “I missed you guys.”

Immediately Hunk’s eyes filled with tears. 

“We missed you too, buddy!” he cried, and after letting the ointment tube clatter to the floor, threw his arms around Keith in one of his traditional embraces. 

Keith let out a sharp yelp. “Ow! Hunk, ribs! Ribs!”

“Sorry!” Hunk gasped, instantly releasing him. “I didn’t mean to!”

“I know, let’s just take a raincheck on the hugging, ok?”

He saw Hunk smile as he bent to retrieve the ointment. “Deal. Turn to the left, I can see some scratches that need attention.”

Keith obeyed, smiling quietly to himself. 

He really had missed his family. 


	12. My Fair Share

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allura might be a Princess, but she's no damsel in distress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally just finished typing this so if there's typos I apologize. Autism brain says post now.

“Keith, would you  _ please  _ stand still?”

Keith made a sound of frustration, but obliged and ceased his pacing. 

“Thank you.”

Keith didn’t answer. He just pulled on the shackles keeping his hands pinned behind his back. 

“We have to find a way out of here,” he said after that tactic proved ineffective. Allura rolled her eyes. 

“Yes, and pacing around the cell for vargas is definitely conducive to that.”

He scowled. “You got a better idea?”

“Yes, actually,” Allura huffed. “I’ve been trying to reach out to the Castle, perhaps signal to Coran somehow. Have you been trying to reach the Red Lion?”

“Yeah, but she doesn’t seem too bothered,” said Keith, furrowing his brow in annoyance. “So long as I’m not actually dying, she thinks I can handle it on my own.”

Allura sighed and leaned her shoulder against the metal wall. Her arms were beginning to ache from the bindings, but she didn’t let it show; a Princess didn't complain. 

“Well, if all else fails, the others will know something’s wrong when we miss our check-in.”

“Which is in eight vargas.”

“Not helpful, Keith.”

“I’m just saying.”

“We’re still a significant distance from Zarkon’s headquarters. It’ll take more time than that.”

“Unless they go into hyperspeed.”

_ “Keith.” _

“What? I’m just trying to be realistic.”

“I’m trying to be optimistic.”

“That’s not very helpful either, is it, Princess?”

“Oh, for the love of--” Allura cut herself off and let out a slow, purposeful breath. Arguing was the least productive course of action, and they didn’t have time to waste on it. 

Before she could say anything else, there was a quiet sound from the hallway outside. Soft, but evidently loud enough for both of them to pick up on it; Keith and Allura exchanged grim looks, then moved in unison, gravitating towards the center of the cell until they stood side by side. 

Allura was more than a little apprehensive as the new sound of footsteps drew nearer. She and Keith had been caught in a shuttle on their way to a diplomatic meeting, which meant they were in their normal clothes, and Keith was without his bayard. It was possible that he’d brought his knife along despite her asking him not to, but if he had they needed to wait for the best opportunity to use it. 

Now was not that opportunity. 

From just outside the cell door came low beeping sounds as someone typed in a code. A moment later it slid open, and Keith went tense at her side.

Allura agreed. It wasn’t a drone or the usual foot soldier. This Galra was huge, almost as large as Sendak, and wore unusual armor-- maroon, with threatening studs and spikes in tactical positions. Over his knuckles, for instance. 

With a cruel smirk, the Galra squeezed through the door and into the cell. The light exposed several scars, criss-crossing all across his face. 

He was intimidating. But Allura put her shoulders back and made damn sure her voice didn’t shake when she asked, “Who are you?”

The smirk grew into a sadistic smile. “The Captain says you’re important to the Emperor,” he said, his voice so low and full of growls that it was difficult to understand. “I’m supposed to find out what you know. Save the Druids some time.”

Allura swallowed hard. “So you’re the interrogator?”

The Galra nodded slowly. The excitement on his face was beginning to cross the line into glee. 

“I’m not so sure Zarkon would like that,” said Keith. He had already slid into a combat stance, watching the interrogator with a wary gaze. “He seems like the type to do his own torturing.”

That merely got them an indifferent shrug. 

“That’s up to the Captain. I’m just here to ask the questions.”

“We’ll tell you nothing,” Allura declared. 

The interrogator answered with an excited growl. “That’s what they all say in the beginning.” He took a few steps forward, forcing Keith and Allura to retreat towards the back wall. “I’ll ask you once, nicely, in respect of your position, Princess.” The leer on his face confirmed the sarcasm in his voice. “Where is the Black Lion?”

Allura lifted her head proudly and said nothing. Keith shifted on his feet, but remained silent. 

“Too bad,” said the interrogator in false remorse. “I’ll get the answer to one question, at least.” He moved forward again, looming over the two of them with one hand wound back for a backhanded strike. “Which one of you will break first?”

Allura closed her eyes and clenched her jaw. She would not flinch. 

_ Crack!  _

The sound of skin against skin was deafening, but the Princess felt no pain or contact. She felt the following  _ thud  _ in the metal floor, and when she opened her eyes, she found Keith laying at her feet, streaks of red across his cheek. 

At some point in the last few ticks, Keith had gotten between her and the interrogator. He’d taken the hit, and with his bound arms, had lost his balance from the force. 

“Oh, how sweet,” said the interrogator sarcastically while Allura gaped. “But you’ve wasted your effort.”

But before he made a single move, the Galra froze in place. Allura heard a slight crackling, like a small comm unit was installed on his armor somewhere, and his smile disappeared, replaced by a bitter scowl. 

“I’ll be back,” he growled, then turned on his heel and stomped out of the room. 

Allura immediately dropped to her knees beside Keith. It was dark in the cell, but she could see how red and swollen his right cheek was, and the three bloody scrapes from the studs on the Galra’s gloves. 

“Keith!” she hissed, praying he was conscious. “Why would you do that?”

Keith blinked a few times, as though dazed, before slowly struggling back to a sitting position. 

“He was gonna hit you,” he muttered. A drop of blood fell from his split lip, splattering against the floor. Allura’s chest tightened. 

“I could’ve taken it. I’m not a helpless damsel.” No matter what Coran said. 

Keith closed his eyes for a moment, like he needed to get his thoughts together. 

“I know,” he said, then grimaced like the action hurt. “But you’re the Princess. The Paladin code says we’re supposed to protect each other, right? Protect our teammates?”

Allura paused; she hadn’t expected an answer like that. The mark was beginning to darken on Keith’s face, stretching from his temple to his chin, blood running down it. His eyes were still hazy-- the strike must’ve been even worse than it sounded-- and the longer she looked at him the more uncomfortable he seemed to become. 

Eventually he looked away, murmuring, “‘M used to it, anyway.”

Before the Princess could question that statement, a soft chime rang in her ears. A cue from her earrings, saying that someone had connected to them. A moment later she felt a surge of relief as Pidge’s voice reached her ears. 

“Allura? Are you there?”

“Pidge!” she cried. “Oh, thank the Ancients! Are you nearby?”

Keith’s face creased in confusion. It stayed that way a few ticks too long before he remembered Allura’s earrings. She hoped the interrogator hadn’t given him a concussion-- that was a complication they didn’t need. 

“Yeah, I’m right outside. The other Lions are distracting the ship, you should be able to go to the airlock at the end of your cellblock and Green will catch you right away.”

“But how will we get out of the cell?”

“Give me a second.” A moment later there was a whir and a click from the door, and it slide open. “Ok, you’re clear.”

Allura stood. “Keith, will you be able to stand?”

Keith nodded, and though it took some struggling, made it to his feet. 

“Get a move on, guys, Green’s cloaking doesn’t last forever.”

The two of them staggered out into the hall, awkward with their hands still bound behind their backs, It was deserted, as promised, and Allura quickly spotted the airlock on the left end of the hall, marked with a flashing green light. 

“This way!”

Allura was a bit anxious at the thought of jumping out of an airlock without a suit, but they didn’t have a lot of options. Pressing her shoulder to the button, she called back to Keith, “Go!”

For once, Keith didn’t argue. It was disconcerting to see him leap into empty space without hesitation, but the feeling subsided when the inside of the Green Lion’s mouth appeared. Keith landed hard and stumbled, but got out of the way fast enough for Allura to make the jump as well. She felt the slightest chill of the vacuum, then her knees crashed against the metal floor and Lion’s mouth slammed shut. 

“You ok, Allura?”

“Fine,” she grunted as she got to her feet. “Let’s get to Pidge.”

When the two of them staggered into the cockpit, Pidge had just finished entering the autopilot sequence. 

“Thank God you two are ok,” she said without turning, her fingers moving at light speed as she tapped out a message to the Castle. “You should’ve seen Shiro’s face when he called the Raulfirians and they said you guys hadn’t shown up.” She spun the pilot’s seat around, then let out a half-angry, half-stunned gasp. 

“They didn’t even take the cuffs off? Jeez louise.”

Keith chuckled a little and turned around, a preemptive move to allow Pidge access to the cuffs around his wrists-- and, Allura noticed, to hide the marks on his face. 

“Jeez louise? You sound like Hunk.”

Pidge rolled her eyes as she crossed the cockpit and opened her gauntlet screen. “Shut up, just because you have a potty mouth doesn’t mean we all have to.”

“You’re worse than I am!”

There was a beep and a click, and Keith’s cuffs fell to the floor. He rubbed his red wrists as Pidge hacked Allura’s cuffs off as well. 

Allura sighed in relief and rolled her sore shoulders. She would need a warm bath tonight. 

“Woah, what happened to your face?” This time, Pidge’s reaction was all surprised. Keith cringed and ducked his head. 

“It’s nothing. Just got smacked around a little.”

“A little?” repeated Pidge incredulously. “You look like you tried to fist fight King Kong. That’s gonna bruise like hell.”

“You don’t say?” responded Keith. “I was thinking getting punched into next week would be good for my complexion.”

Pidge rolled her eyes and turned back to the pilot’s seat. “Alright, smartass. Allura’s gonna have to do first aid, autopilot only gets you so far with the Lions.”

Keith frowned, but before he could protest, Allura answered, “Not a problem,” and rushed over to the panel where the emergency kits were kept. Keith stayed where he was, pouting as Allura pulled out the first aid supplies, and didn’t move until Allura beckoned to him. Even then he came reluctantly, and she barely restrained herself from copying Pidge’s eyeroll. 

“It’s not going to be that bad,” she said. “Sit.”

Keith sat, folding his arms grumpily. “It’s not that bad,” he tried to insist, but Allura wasn’t fooled. She could see how the bruise was beginning to turn black and purple on the edges. 

“Just sit still, or I’ll spray antiseptic in your eye.”

He scowled at her, but didn’t argue any further as the Princess sprayed disinfectant over the trio of cuts on his cheekbone and stuck bandages over them. Then she pulled out the tube of topical anti-inflammatory, and as she leaned in close to spread it over the blackening bruise, spoke quietly. 

“I don’t want you to do something like this again.”

Keith locked eyes with her. She looked back for a solemn moment before going back to her task. 

“I mean it, Keith.”

He huffed. “I was just trying to do my job.”

“This isn’t your job,” she said with a slight shake of her head. “Paladins must protect each other, yes, but that doesn’t mean throwing yourself in the line of fire instead.”

“But I--”

“Ah-ah.” She pulled back and held up a finger, a blob of ointment still poised on the tip. “I’m not finished.”

Keith’s lips pursed, but he stayed quiet. Allura swept the ointment under his eye and continued in her soft voice. 

“I appreciate that you care about me enough to put yourself at risk. But a team only works if everyone does their fair share of the work. Takes their fair share of the pain.” She screwed the cap back onto the ointment and set it aside, then captured Keith’s gaze again. “Let me take mine.”

He blinked, then sighed and looked down. “Alright, Princess. Whatever you say.”

That brought a smile to her lips. Before she started packing up the supplies, she couldn’t resist the urge to drop a kiss on the top of his head. 

Keith’s face was red all the way home. 


	13. Sunless Seas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allura finally gives the team a break. Under duress, but still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry these last two are late, and this might have a lot of typos because I just typed it out right now, but life was difficult last week and I'm going back to school next week, and these ones aren't going through my usual beta readers. Excuses, excuses, yadda yadda. Read and enjoy.

When Lance realized the planet they were visiting had an ocean-- a legitimate, safe to swim in, made-of-water ocean-- Keith knew he would make himself insufferable until Allura caved and let them go to the beach. And he was right. 

“Pleeeeeeaaaaaase? Please please please, Princess?”

Allura sighed and rubbed her forehead. Keith could sympathize; Lance’s whining was giving him a headache, too. 

“Lance, you should know perfectly well that we can’t waste time on frivolous excursions. Zarkon’s had ten thousand years to grow his empire, and--”

“Exactly!” Lance exclaimed. “He’s been at it for ten thousand years, how much worse can he get in one day?”

The rest of the team stood back, watching the battle of wills progress. Not even Shiro dared to intervene. 

Allura’s eyebrow twitched, and Keith’s stomach sank. 

“Fine,” she snapped, slamming a hand down on the Castle controls. “A few vargas. That is all.”

“Yes!” Lance fist pumped the air, then (apparently having decided that wasn’t enough to express his joy) jumped in place a few times. 

“Damn it,” Pidge muttered at Keith’s side. “I was hoping Allura could resist. Now I’m gonna get all,” she pulled a face, “hot and sandy and sunburned. 

Keith folded his arms. He wasn’t looking forward to it either, but he knew Shiro would make him go anyway, so there was no point in trying to get out of it. “We should probably ask Coran if he has Altean sunscreen.”

“Assuming Alteans burn. And assuming their sun gave off the same UV rays that ours does.” Pidge frowned and shook her head in irritation. “Space is so fucking complicated.”

“You can say that again.”

Meanwhile, Lance had completed his happy stimming and bounced his way over to pull on Hunk’s arm. “Come on, guys, let’s get going!”

“Ok, ok,” said Shiro with a laugh. “Everybody meet back here when you’re ready to leave. And yes, I do mean everyone.” He shot a look at Keith and Pidge, who gave him an eye roll and a huff in turn. 

But they went, nevertheless. 

Keith was the first to return to the bridge. He’d accepted his face and donned his swim trunks, which he hadn’t worn since the elevator incident, but kept his shirt on for now. He had a towel draped over his head to keep the lights out of his eyes, and since he had no other options, still wore his boots-- which inspired raucous laughter from Lance when he entered, towing Hunk behind him. 

“Dude, you’re wearing your boots to the beach?”

Lance was all decked out, of course. Swim trunks, no shirt, towel over his shoulder, sandals on his feet and sunglasses perched atop his head. Keith wasn’t sure where he’d gotten the last two. Probably the space mall. 

“I don’t have any other shoes, ok?”

“Same here,” said Hunk with a combination smile/grimace. He also still wore his shirt, and was carrying a tote bag in Altean blue, which Keith assumed to be full of juice pouches and goo packets. 

“I really don’t understand how you two can live with only one pair of shoes.”

The door opened again before either of them could respond. This time it was Pidge who entered, still in her normal shorts but wearing a green tank top. She’d elected to ditch her shoes altogether. 

“Wow, Pidge,” said Lance, jokingly shielding his eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen your shoulders.”

“I hate you,” she muttered miserably. 

Shiro was the next one to join them. He had his black swim trunks and his white undershirt on, and like Pidge had decided to go barefoot. The look on his face was so relaxed, almost eager. It immediately put a lid on any sassy remarks Keith may have had-- he wasn’t going to ruin something fun for Shiro.

“Coran, please, I’m not a child!”

All of the Paladins turned. Coran was trailing behind the Princess, a little bottle in one hand while the other attempted to smear something on Allura’s arm, left bare in the light blue slip she had donned. 

“Healthy skin is very important, Princess!”

Allura made an irritated sound and smacked his hand away. “I can apply it myself!”

“Guess that answers our sunscreen question,” Pidge muttered as she sidled up next to Keith. 

“You know what, Pidge?” said Lance. “I take it back. Seeing Coran’s shoulders is infinitely worse.”

Luckily, Coran was too busy battling it out with the Princess to notice the jab. As mean as it was, Keith had to agree. He’d never seen the Altean bare-chested before, but there was something not quite right about it-- maybe a few too many ribs? Whatever it was, it was a sudden and jarring reminder that Alteans were aliens. 

Allura lost her patience and snatched the entire bottle from Coran’s hand. He looked pleased despite her annoyance, and after digging in the orange bag hanging from his shoulder, produced several more little bottles. 

“Who wants ultraviolet blocker?”

“Uh, everyone!” cried Lance as he grabbed a bottle. “Skin cancer is no joke!”

Keith rolled his eyes, but took a bottle anyway, knowing that Shiro would do it if he didn’t. It wasn’t much like Earth sunblock. It was clear and thin, runny, with an oily texture that made Keith shudder as he smeared it on. 

Pidge immediately cringed and shook it off of her hand, a disgusted expression on her face. “I am  _ not  _ wearing that. Do you guys have an umbrella anywhere?”

“Of course!” chirped Coran, and buried his arm into the bag. It didn’t look that big, but his arm disappeared up to his shoulder like he was re-enacting Mary Poppins. 

Shiro nudged Keith’s side and leaned down to murmur, “It’s bigger on the inside.” Keith playfully smacked his bicep as Shiro chortled at his own joke. 

“Aha! Here we are!” From the bag Coran produced an umbrella that he held aloft victoriously, like Arthur pulling the sword from the stone. It was orange (predictably), and so long it was practically the size of Pidge. She nodded in approval. 

“That’ll do.”

“Alright, let’s go people!” Lance was vibrating with excitement, seconds from bounding across the room in his eagerness. Shiro, Hunk, and Allura followed with fond expressions. Coran was distracted, still looking through his bag as he walked. Pidge and Keith brought up the rear, Pidge dragging the umbrella behind her, Keith trying to find a way to cross his arms without the Altean sunscreen sticking in his elbow joints. 

When they exited the Castle, Keith expected to be blinded by sunlight and white sand. So he was pleasantly surprised to see a dusky lavender sky, thin black clouds allowing only a soft, dim light to filter through. The waves on the shore were gentle, tiny lapping things, and the shore itself was made up of black, grey, and white dappled gravel. 

“Oooh,” cooed Hunk. “It’s so pretty.”

“Yeah, not bad,” Shiro agreed. 

Lance was already halfway down the beach to the water. 

The gravel was loose underfoot. Keith sank in it to his ankles, stones flowing over the tops of his boots. Pidge, similarly sunken, made an intrigued noise. 

“Woah, this texture is so weird. Feel it, Keith.”

Keith bent down and cautiously dragged his fingers over the rocks. His eyebrows rose in surprise. It felt like Earth stone, but every rock was perfectly smooth to the touch; it was like a beach made entirely of marbles. Strange, but not unpleasant. 

Shiro and Hunk were just as captivated by the gravel as they were. The Alteans didn’t give it a second glance. They walked ahead, glancing around consideringly. 

In the background, Lance let out a loud whoop as he crashed into the water. 

“This looks like a good spot,” said Allura. Glancing over at the huddle of Paladins, she called, “Pidge, will you bring the umbrella, please?”

Pidge trotted off, and having been broken from their gravel trance, the boys followed. 

“What do you think?” Shiro asked as Coran set up the umbrella and Hunk began arranging towels. 

“It’s nice,” Keith answered. “Quiet.” He’d never been to the beach back on Earth, but now he saw why so many people liked it-- the sound of the waves was soothing, the breeze comforting. 

Shiro smiled down at him. “Are you going to go swimming?”

Keith shrugged. “Maybe. You?”

“Nah, I think I’ll just stick my feet in. I’m not sure how the water will react with the arm.”

There was a crunching sound as Pidge sat down on the rocks. “I have to admit, this is pretty cool,” she said, pulling one of her little orange tablets from her shorts pocket. “Don’t tell Lance I said that, though.”

A few moments later Lance himself came back up the beach towards them. He was dripping wet, and shook his sodden hair as soon as he got within splashing range. 

“It’s so weird,” he said, even though his eyes were sparkling. “It doesn’t taste salty.”

“Salty?” questioned Allura. “Why would it be salty?”

Lance only laughed and waved a hand. Keith felt some water droplets land on his arm. “Don’t worry about it, just an Earth thing. Hunk,” he turned to his friend, “Come swim with me.”

“I don’t know,” Hunk said nervously, bumping his index fingers together. “There could be weird stuff in there, weird alien fish. Knowing our luck, they’d probably be carnivorous too.”

Lance laughed again. “There’s plenty of weird alien-looking fish on Earth. Have I ever told you about the goblin shark?”

Hunk squeaked and covered his face with his hands. “I don’t wanna know! I don’t wanna know!”

Lance pouted. “Fine. I won’t tell you about it,” the pout morphed into a smirk, “If you come swimming with me.”

“Oh, fine,” Hunk groaned. Lance grinned and grabbed him by the wrist, and as he was dragged away, Hunk called back, “Snacks and water are in the bags!”

No one answered him. Coran had already taken off for the water himself. Allura was draped across a towel on her stomach, head resting on her arms, silver hair surrounding her. Pidge was deep in her tablet. Shiro gave Keith’s shoulder a pat and ambled down to the water's edge. 

Keith let out a breath and took off his boots. Leaving them with the other stuff, Keith dropped his towel on top and headed off down the beach. He stayed within sight, but just barely; the others were just colorful blobs when he stopped and sat down. He dug his feet and his hands into the gravel, and after another moment to ensure no one was watching, let his eyes fall shut. 

Keith didn’t miss much about Earth, but he did miss the quiet of the desert. The peace. The calming quality of nature going through its infinite cycles around him. 

There wasn’t a lot of time for relaxing on the Castle. And there the reminder of the war was too strong for him to ever allow himself to let his guard down entirely. 

But here there was calm. The others were there, no enemies in sight, the soft crash of waves filling his ears, the cool texture of smooth stone over his hands. For the first time in days he was able to sit still-- even if it was only for a few minutes before someone came crunching up to him. 

“Hey, Mullet!”

_ Lance,  _ Keith thought with a sigh.  _ Of course.  _ When he reluctantly peeled his eyes open Lance was standing in front of him with an excited grin, hands on his hips. 

“We’re going to play Chicken,” he announced, as if that was supposed to mean anything. “We need a fourth player.”

“Uh…” Keith pulled his hands out of the gravel and self consciously braced them over his knees. “What’s Chicken?” He was expecting a remark about how he didn’t know the game, but for once Lance let the opportunity pass.

“It’s simple: I sit on Hunk’s shoulders, Pidge sits on yours, and me and her try to knock each other over.”

Keith raised his eyebrows. “You got Pidge to play?”

“Mmmmmm, Space Dad may or may not have pressured her into it just a teensy bit. So, you in, or do I need to drag Shiro over here, too?”

“Well, when you put it that way…”

Lance smiled just a tiny bit more, his eyes crinkling up in the corners as he held a hand out for Keith. He let Lance pull him to his feet. 

“Race you!” he exclaimed suddenly, then took off down the beach. Keith couldn’t resist-- he gave chase. Running on the gravel was strange, but it only took a few seconds for Keith to adjust and start catching up to Lance, both the wind and his smile making his cheeks sting. He pulled ahead just as they reached the group, where the ill placement of Hunk’s tote bag sent him sprawling. 

“Ooooooh!” Lance hooted in the background as Keith rolled across the towels, stopping just in time to avoid smacking into Allura. “Wipe out!”

Keith rolled onto his back and laughed. Allura and Shiro were looking on, but he didn’t mind. There was something childish about this whole thing, but in a good way. Freeing. 

“I still won.”

“Bet you won’t beat me and Hunk at Chicken, though!” 

Keith smirked, scrambling to his feet. “We’ll see about that.” Without pause he yanked his shirt over his head, tossed it over to his boots, and set off towards the water where Hunk and Pidge were waiting. 

Quiet was good. But, sometimes, a little loud was good, too. 

  
  



	14. The Speed of Sound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epic space road trips aren't as exciting as they sound.

“Coran, you know we all love you, but--”

“If you sing the Altean alphabet song one more time, there’s going to be blood.”

That little transaction summed up the mood in the Black Lion. It was day three of the ‘epic space road trip’ as Lance called it, and Keith was about ready to lose his mind. Clearly, Krolia and Shiro were, too. 

Coran harrumphed. He was standing behind the pilot’s seat, but Keith could imagine his offended expression. “Well, forgive me for trying to provide some entertainment.”

“More like torture,” snarked Lance over the comms. 

“It’s not even correct!” Romelle chimed in, only for Lance to speak over her. 

“Hey, don't lean on the dashboard! I still don’t know what all of these do, and if I wreck Red, Keith will kill me!”

“There is a ten thousand year time difference,” Allura said. “Some things are bound to have changed.”

“Be that as it may,” Coran blustered, “The writing system is a cornerstone of civilization, and--”

“Romelle, stop pressing buttons!”

“Here we go again,” Shiro muttered. Krolia growled, and Keith’s patience abruptly ran out. 

“Alright, shut up everybody, we’re making a pit stop.” Removing his right hand from Black’s controls, he pulled up the star map. “There’s a planet close by. We can land, stretch our legs, switch passengers around.”

“How long will the new arrangement last?” asked Hunk. He sounded dejected-- probably because he was once again traveling with the mice. 

“Until we can’t stand it anymore,” Keith answered shortly. “Follow me down, guys.”

The other Lions obeyed, following Keith’s lead to the tiny planet. To call it a planet was pushing it for how tiny and bare it was, but it was made of rock and, according to Black’s sensors, had enough gravity to keep them from floating off into the void, so it was a planet in Keith’s book. 

Black powered down the moment they landed, like she was tired too. One by one he, Coran, Krolia, and Shiro filed down the ramp to the planet’s surface. Around them the passengers of the other Lions were doing the same. 

During his time in the Quantum Abyss, Keith had gotten a lot better at gauging his mood and reactions. Right now he had that tight, staticky feeling in his chest that told him he would snap soon if he didn’t take a breather. 

He stepped aside from the others, just a little distance between them, and took a deep breath. It was less effective with the recycled air, but it was good enough for now. 

Tilting his head back, Keith raised his hands towards the stars, stretching, and a series of satisfying cracks ran down the length of his spine. 

The dirt crunched behind him. Keith turned to see Shiro standing a few feet away, an unsure smile on his lips. 

“Hey. Are you doing ok?”

“Yeah,” Keith answered, pulling one arm across his chest, then the other. “Just stretching. You?”

Shiro shrugged one shoulder. “Fine enough, I suppose.” 

Keith could read between the lines. They were both still beat to hell, popping painkillers every few hours from all the damage they’d done to each other. Shiro had been easily distracted and prone to dissociation, and both of them were waking up several times a night from dreams. 

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask about.”

Ah, speak of the devil. 

“The nightmares?” Keith guessed, and Shiro nodded gravely. 

“Yes. I don’t-- I’m worried that you’re not getting enough sleep, especially when you have to deal with all of--” Shiro waved his hand to encompass the entire situation. “--This.”

Keith smiled fondly. He was older now and technically the leader, but Shiro would probably never stop looking after him. Good thing Keith didn’t want him to. 

“I’m fine, Shiro. This is a walk in the park compared to the Abyss.”

Shiro tilted his head curiously. “You and Krolia say that a lot, but neither of you has ever said what it was like. Why is that?”

“It’s… a complicated place,” said Keith after a brief hesitation. “Things don’t work there like they do anywhere else. And pretty much everything wants to kill you.” He gave a little chuckle in an attempt to lighten the mood, but Shiro didn’t take the bait. He just looked at Keith and waited until he gave in and admitted, “Honestly, most of my nightmares aren’t about the fight. They’re about the Abyss.”

(Of course, that didn’t cover how he’d gotten visions of the fight while he was there, but that wasn’t a complication they needed right now.) 

Shiro nodded slowly, comprehension dawning on his face. He gave a wry smile. “Well, most of mine are about the Astral Plane, so I guess that makes us even.”

Keith’s answering smile was softer than Shiro’s. They hadn’t had a lot of time alone since the fight; Keith had missed him. He’d been missing him for a long, long time.

“What?” Shiro asked, raising an eyebrow, and Keith shook off the strange thoughts. 

“Nothing. It’s just… good to have you back.”

Shiro’s expression gentled. “It’s good to be back.”

“Keith!”

Both of them turned to see Lance, waving at them from the landing site. 

“Well,” said Keith, “guess the moment’s over.” 

Shiro laughed and thumped him on the back. “Welcome to leadership.”

Keith rolled his eyes and followed Shiro back to the others. They’d all recongregated, and as he approached the chatter died down, all eyes turning to him, waiting for Keith to tell them what to do. Still a bit intimidating, but he could handle it much better now than he could before the Abyss. 

Pros and cons. 

“Where’s everybody going?” Pidge asked. She was impatient to return to her Lion, apparently. “I’m in the middle of a Killbot level.”

It was difficult, but he managed to swallow back his laugh. “Ok, ok, lemme think for a second. Allura, do you want me to take Kosmo?”

“Yes, please,” answered Allura, voice tense despite Kosmo’s puppy eyes staring right up at her. “Everything in Blue’s hold is covered in wolf slobber.”

“Alright, but you get to take Coran.”

“Deal.”

They shook on it, and Kosmo immediately trotted to Keith’s side, looking almost pleased with himself. 

“Krolia, Shiro, are you guys still ok with riding in Black?”

Both of them nodded, as expected, allowing Keith to move on to the next problem. 

“Romelle, since you want to press buttons, why don’t you ride with Pidge? She can teach you how to play Killbot.”

Pidge slumped dejectedly, but she didn’t argue, and though Romelle had a slightly confused expression, she didn’t say anything either. 

“Lance, you can take Kaltenecker. Hunk, you can keep the mice.”

The mice, standing on Hunk’s shoulder, applauded with their little mice hands. Apparently they enjoyed having photos taken of them. 

“Great. Ten more minutes and we’re back in the air.”

* * *

Hours later, Keith double checked the maps and Black’s autopilot before shutting down her systems, one by one, in preparation for bed. The rest of the day had been quiet-- once Allura and Coran were together, they could indulge in as many Altean travel songs as they wanted with their mics shut off, and Romelle’s fascination with new technology was temporarily assuaged by learning how to use Pidge’s console. They all received an albums worth of mice pictures from Hunk, and Lance’s stream of chatter was much more tolerable when he wasn’t shouting at someone every few minutes. 

The Black Lion had been the quietest. Now Keith was the last one up, shutting down the cockpit before heading to the hold for the night. 

The Lions weren’t meant to transport so many people for such long distances, but thanks to some cots saved from the Castle and sheets hung as makeshift walls, everyone got some degree of privacy. In the Black Lion’s hold Krolia was sleeping with her curtain shoved open so that she could see the room. Shiro’s curtain was drawn, but underneath it the very tip of Kosmo’s tail protruded-- Shiro was the wolf’s favorite nighttime snuggle buddy. Besides Keith, of course. 

He pulled his armor off at a leisurely pace before climbing into bed. He would be the first person up in the morning, making sure they were still on course and considering the maps, supplies, etc., and he’d probably jolt awake from nightmares at least once before then. 

Even so, Keith allowed himself a few minutes to enjoy the peace. Everyone was there, no one was seriously hurt or upset, they hadn’t had to fight that day. It wasn’t much, but compared to previous days, it was enough to be content with.

Three days down. Only a few thousand more years to go. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok it took a bit but I have completed Gentron. Next up on the docket-- Max Ride AU


End file.
